Howling Dark
by Roach99
Summary: For us, the storm has passed. The war is over. But let us never forget those who journeyed into the howling dark and did not return. For their decision required courage beyond measure, sacrifice, and unshakable conviction that their fight, our fight, was elsewhere. ... A memorial to heroes fallen. They ennobled all of us, and they shall not be forgotten. (FZ/FSN)
1. Chapter 1: Objective Omega

Everything hurt.

He could barely breathe, gusts of sand and microshards of glass filled his still-bleeding lungs as he lay collapsed on burning sands. He looked up into the sky, watching purple misshapen blots hover over the sand-filled sky through blurring vision.

His body was one giant wound, filled to the brim with stabs and cuts and burns and every other horrible infliction imaginable to the human mind.

Spent bullet shells surrounded him, still hot from leaving their muzzles. The slight sound of sizzling crept through the man's ears as blood soaked itself into the casings nearby. Empty guns lay somewhere in the distance as he then had to rely on his own bare hands. The metallic exterior around his gauntlets had worn away against the onslaught of aliens that had one surrounded him from every corner, his knuckles and elbows frayed down to the bones, stripped of flesh as he continued to fight like a cornered animal, wild and unrelenting.

The Spartan could barely breathe, couldn't lift a finger, his vision was already fading fast much as his strength did already. Pain wouldn't even begin to describe what he felt in that moment, not just in body, but in soul and mind.

It all started with war, everything did, regardless of the motivation. But what replaced the usual vices were now foreign creatures from beyond the stars that waged war against humanity for simply existing.

"_Your destruction is the will of the gods… and we are their instrument."_ Those words were the first that humanity had heard from them. Noble Six remembered when they played the recording when he was only a kid, showing he and the rest of Beta Company what they would eventually fight against. It demoralized many and, in turn, weeded out the cowardly.

So it was at that point where endless training culminated into a single goal: to stand up against those that sought unrelenting destruction against humanity and all the colonies they lived upon.

It just so happened that Reach was one of their main targets. It started off small; infighting between humanity as rebels were still a thorn in the UNSC's side during that time. That was what Noble Six, Spartan-B312 at the time, was assigned to take care of before then.

Insurrectionists disappeared overnight without a single trace of conflict, and the third-generation Spartan was held on a tight leash during that time until he was assigned to Noble Team.

The dying Spartan would admit that he wasn't much of a team player, but something of an unbreakable bond was forged between them, however short it was. He was meant to be a replacement for a martyr and yet here he was in the same position he started in.

Alone, once again surrounded by enemies.

But he would do it all over again, he had no regrets for what he gave that resulted in his death. His corpse, guts, and blood strewn upon the land of an extraterrestrial world among many others as if a sacrifice to a hungry god.

His brothers and sisters-in-arms were merely meant to slow down the coming tide that would eventually crush them all… but that was life, wasn't it? Maybe if the Covenant didn't exist, so many more lives would have been spared. So many men, women, and children wouldn't have died.

Before long, the Spartan closed his eyes, never to open again as he breathed his last.

Despite that, the spirit of mankind itself had recognized him for his deeds. Despite never even seeing Earth, nor the people of that little blue planet ever hearing of his name or legend, the world recognized his strength and willpower, and most importantly, his wish.

Another hero was marked for endless battle in a concept of recordings known as the Throne of Heroes.

**Fill.**

Noble Six found himself in an endless sea, one with it: shapeless, colorless, merely a blip in a ocean of nothing until something invaded that space.

**Fill**

It spoke with feeling instead of words, sharing that same feeling of envelopment alongside him in the eternal void. It asked him questions, and he answered in return. Six wasn't exactly a religious man, but he knew this thing was otherworldly, perhaps even divine.

**Fill**

It spoke of his achievements throughout life, the sacrifices and commitments that he had taken up in order to preserve the balance of life. He felt nothing of it, it was merely a duty, nothing to take pride in.

**Fill**

It told him of his regrets that came out of those sacrifices, the would-have-beens that occur in every man's life. But they were all inevitabilities that were out of his control, and even then he would do them all again for the safety of humanity.

**Fill**

From his answer, it asked if he would do it even now.

**Upon each fill shalt it be destroyed. **

A switch flipped inside the machinations of his soul and his mind opened outwards for the spirit to bear upon him. Whispers of power and secrets and magic. Secret societies beget in the olden ways that thrived up until this point.

**Heed my Words. My Will creates your body, and your sword creates my Destiny. **

A container was placed before him, the closest it could to match his own specialty. Among him lay six others.

**If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, answer me. **

Sword, spear, bow, steed, rod, madness.

**I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world. **

And what lay before him was a dagger. Simple steel, nothing out of the ordinary and flawless. The spirit that previously enveloped him granted him flesh, blood, bone, all of which a vessel to house that great spirit it beheld.

**That I shall defeat all the evil in the world. **

A battle taking place in Japan, the dusk of the 20th century in the city of Fuyuki. There would he fight once more, against several other spirits bearing similar powers. And he would be bound to a Master in order to attain this wish.

**Seven Heavens, clad in the three great words of power. **

Six looked down at the dagger, taking it in his hands as his body began to glow. There, the information he had seen began to pour into him, taking it as his own as the world began to glow in a brilliant white luminescence.

**Come forth from the circle of binding.**

From then on, he would answer to his Master to achieve the Holy Grail. A Servant cloaked in the presence concealing crafts that had been gifted to him. Henceforth, he shall cast aside his True Name and answer to a title befitting him for the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki:

**Guardian of the Scales! **

_Assassin._

The light died down and Six, the core of his soul encased in the vessel of a Servant, rose to his feet. His body was encased in a black lightweight, liquid nanocrystal-layered mesh suit and a slim helmet that obscured his face.

The Spartan turned to see an asian man with short brown hair and a muscled build hidden underneath priestly garbs. In his right hand was a set of command seals.

"You," he tilted his head, testing his voice as though it had not been used for an eternity, "Are you my master?"

**-oOo-**

His name was Kirei Kotomine, a priest whose father would be serving as the Overseer of the 4th Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. Taken in as the apprentice of Tokiomi Tohsaka after the discovery of his Command Seals, learning the basics and workarounds of magecraft.

That was all the information that Assassin had been provided, nothing really mattered to him before that. His master was a fighter, and a tactful one at that.

A Master would rarely ever have the chance to exceed the abilities of a Servant, but comparable to any other normal man and Kirei was on a league of his own. Assassin recognized a killer when he saw one, and his Master was no exception.

The Spartan could feel the prana from Kirei flowing into him, and even though he hadn't even considered the possibility of magecraft even existing up until his summoning, he considered the link perfectly stable and of adequate quantity.

"Assassin," the baritone voice of his Master seemed to boom throughout the basement of the Tohsaka manor as the three men stood in silence, "I would prefer if you'd leave us for now, I must speak with my mentor."

Six merely nodded and dispersed into spirit form, leaving the priest and the magus to themselves.

Tokiomi turned to his apprentice with an interested glint in his eye, "My, it appears you've summoned quite an interesting Servant, Kirei."

"It would appear so," the priest only said as the clicker-clacker of what could only be described as a magus' fax machine began to type up another paper for the Tohsaka patriarch, "Any more news from that fiendish machine of yours?"

Tokiomi merely chuckled to himself and deftly sliced the paper at the ends, eyes running through the runic texts as he began to translate it, "Merely more information on Masters partaking in the war."

Kirei nodded at the information, having been unsatisfied by the questions that the very existence that was Kiritsugu Emiya had formed for him, "Anything in particular?"

He shook his head, "It's merely a compiled summary of what we'll be dealing with in the coming war. Damned fools, they send me all the information I require before they send me the cliff notes?"

Tokiomi turned back to Kirei after muttering his curses, "What about you, Kirei? Tell me about your Servant."

"What would you like to know?"

"What do you have to tell me?" Tokiomi questioned back, "You know how the plan will be. Regardless of what happens, Assassin will die in the coming war to further along our goal."

Kirei hummed to himself, leaning on the back wall with his arms crossed before looking back up, "He said he was a Spartan."

"A Spartan? Are you sure that was what he said?"

"He insisted that I would refer to him as such if Assassin did not suffice," Kirei answered.

That was news to the magus, not outright concerning news, but still news nonetheless. This wasn't Hassan-i-Sabbah, which created a whole new set of considerations to factor in. And there weren't many notable Laconians during the battle of Thermopylae, narrowing the 300 down to specifically King Leonidas.

However… why not name themselves as such if that were the case? Aside from that was the class he had been summoned into. Tokiomi would've expected the Lancer class to have been a more suitable contender for him, or perhaps even the theoretical Shielder class that existed within the scripts of the Holy Grail War's first conception.

Spartan or not, Assassin or not, it mattered little. So long as everything went according to plan. And with the catalyst at hand, victory was assured.

"There's no cause for concern, Kirei," Tokiomi placed the parchment back on the table, "As long as Assassin can fulfill his end of the plan, I can assure you the failure to summon Hassan will mean little."

Whether or not that was meant to ease any of Kirei's discomforts, the stoic priest didn't show it. He turned back to his mentor, "And what if my Servant possessed a power that could go beyond your plans?"

Tokiomi looked back at Kirei with that same curious glint in his eye, the telling of a magi on the verge of discovering something unknown, "Oh? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Kirei shook his head, "No, merely weighing whether or not this information would be relevant to the plans, but it can achieve both methods of eliminating any suspicions of us keeping an alliance and continue to have a Servant to keep watch of any… opposing parties."

"In that case, my apprentice, do tell."

And so he did.

**-oOo-**

Shortly after, Kirei emerged to see Tokiomi's daughter, Rin if he remembered correctly, hefting what appeared to be a heavy set of luggage. Deciding to speak with her, their conversation was brief, though the words of the priest would change the way Rin would later see him. Short and to the point, their exchange would mark a turning point.

Nevertheless, the young mage had more important things to worry about.

"Hrrrr…!" Rin grunted, trying to pull the luggage out of the house and into their car. The little girl pushed the words of that dumb priest out of her head and focused on the priorities at hand, _'Stupid adolescent muscles can't even lift this damn suitcase!'_

Minutes passed and after the struggle she had put into to reach the car…

She finally made it out of the house.

"Gah!" Rin growled and slumped over onto the porch. Despite her adolescent age, she knew full well that she was rightfully pissed off, but more-so worried for her father than he was for her. They'd be safe with relatives and yet he had to stay here with some total stranger.

"Hey, you need help with that?" another deep voice, but this one sounded strangely foreign. The little girl turned around to see a giant towering over her.

The giant dressed up like Kirei sans the cross around his neck, but the clothes he wore seemed a bit too… tight on him. Maybe this was an associate of his that her father had omitted to tell her for reasons that she would've trusted him with anyway.

Rin's face soured into a scowl at the revelation of another damn priest in her presence before turning away, "I can do this on my own, I don't need your help."

Seconds passed before she heard the door behind her finally close, it was obvious that even as a child, her prestige as a Magus was something to be highly respecte-

"Woah!" Rin yelped, landing on her rear as she felt her luggage be pulled out from behind her, the loss of her makeshift stand causing gravity to grab hold of her once more and claim yet another victim.

Finding herself seated on the steps still, she shook her head to see that same giant of a man with her own luggage slung over his shoulder. Of course, she gave chase to the thief that had taken what was rightfully hers, "Hey, let go of that right now!"

"You're not strong enough," without missing a beat, the giant turned back to her as he continued his way forward and out of the manor. Rin gave chase to the giant lumbering towards the car to find him placing her suitcase into the trunk.

Rin stopped running as she caught up to the man, steps faltering to simple walking as she watched this mysterious man approach her mother. She turned to look at the car to see her luggage neatly placed among the rest going with them.

The man glanced out the corner of his eye just to see Rin look away from him with a pouty look on her face, he paid her no mind and turned back towards the house.

"Oh, hello there," a soft voice spoke to his left. A dark-haired young woman appeared from his peripheral vision, "Have we met before?"

He turned to face her, getting better look before shaking his head. The man strode closer to her, closing the trunk next to her as they began to converse, "I'm afraid not, miss. I'm merely helping out your husband and Kirei for the rest of the Grail War."

She tilted her head slightly, "Oh? Tokiomi didn't tell me about you."

"I'm a… recent addition," twelve hours recent, to be exact.

She seemed to catch on to the nature of his appearance, nodding as she now spoke in a hushed tone, "Ah, so you're Assassin?"

Assassin nodded, "And you must be Tokiomi's wife, Aoi Tohsaka, if I remember correctly," he held out his hand, to which she took.

"That would be correct. I... " her voice faltered, "I hope you keep my husband safe."

Assassin frowned and considered this for a moment, looking down and pondering the thought before slowly nodding to her, "I will do my best to keep my Master and your husband out of harm's way, ma'am."

The wife of Tokiomi bowed her head with a smile, thanking him and wishing him good luck during the Holy Grail War as she and Rin finally got into the car and drove off.

The third-gen Spartan slowly raised an arm and waved, half hoping that the woman would see him in the rearview mirror, despite his face ever unchanging however. As soon as they disappeared from sight, he did as well, taking to his spirit form and following after his Master. It didn't take him long to find the man with Tokiomi once more, this time the two looking over the fossilized skin of what appeared to be a snake.

They spoke of it as a catalyst to summon a Servant that was sure to bring them victory alongside the peculiarity that was himself, the two planning their use for this future Servant and the presently summoned Assassin.

Assassin merely listened for only a brief moment before leaving, letting the two have their conversation in private and instead continued to keep watch over the manor. It was not his place to know their plan without their consent. Although, Tokiomi seemed… frustrated.

In the meantime, however, the Servant continued his watch, keeping his wish for the Holy Grail at the back of his mind until the time being. Until then, he had a job to do, one that he could not afford to fail.

**-oOo-**

Well this was quite a… roundabout development. Tokiomi sat back in his chair as he pondered the circumstances of his Servant's summoning.

Perhaps there was an error in the catalyst. It was said to summon the most powerful hero in history, the ties coming from what should've been the shed skin of a snake, but upon closer inspection had told the magus otherwise.

He had meant to summon Gilgamesh, but he had failed… yet at the same time this was a development that the magus couldn't exactly be disappointed by.

Archer stood beside him as the battle against Assassin had come to a grisly conclusion, his body strewn about the garden as he finally faded away. The battlefield, however small it may have been, was littered to the brim with craters. As though Assassin had picked a fight with the sky itself and had died to the lightning it responded with.

Knowing the Heroic Spirit that was Archer, this wasn't too far off.

Anyone else watching this development would've come to the conclusion that Assassin was eliminated from the war. It would've been natural to assume so as the familiars that watched the manor witnessed the Servant of shadows fade away into nothingness.

"The deed is done, Master," Archer said, lowering the bow in his hands and letting it disperse in a haze of prana.

"Excellent work, Archer," the magus nodded dully, looking at the glass of wine in his hand, "One of the most important steps has finally been fulfilled."

Archer knew full well that his Master had not intended on summoning him, their interactions together had told him all he needed to know. But that didn't stop him from taking arms for his new Master, who laid out the plans carefully before him.

"Master," he began, the gargantuan man staring down at his much frailer and much shorter contractor, "I understand why yourself and this allied Master are working together, but was this part of the plan truly necessary?"

This snapped Tokiomi out of his thoughts as he stared back up at Archer, his size reminding him of the summoning, seeing that the Servant was far taller than anything he expected to call forth.

Luckily, the magus had the funds to fix the basement ceiling, and he could easily hypnotize any workers to forget the witnessing of his workshop.

Nevertheless, Tokiomi Tohsaka closed his eyes, "It was necessary to show our foes that the Servant of the Tohsaka family is not something to be taken lightly, Assassin merely obeyed the whims of his Master, my apprentice, to carry out my assassination."

"So it would've appeared disingenuous if Assassin had been ordered to fake an assassination and allow me to simply let him go," Archer caught on, crossing his arms and closing his eyes in contemplation, "I do admit the commitment is admirable, my lord, but I must ask once more if his death was absolutely necessary?"

Tokiomi rose from his seat, "Do not be fooled by the presence concealing skills of the Assassin class, Archer. Your ally still lives, if only for a temporary time until the end of the Grail War."

"Temporary ally?" the low and gravelly voice of the Bow Servant merely shook his head in amusement, "My Master, are you suggesting that you would have me work with that man?"

Assassin was an oddity even by the standards of every other Servant summoned in past Grail Wars, if the records are anything to go by. From what Kirei was able to tell him, the Servant was well-suited for close combat just as much as they are for shadowy silent murders.

"Kirei would keep him in line with Command Seals if absolutely necessary," Tokiomi answered, "Would this bother you?"

Archer merely looked out the window at the crater where Assassin's corpse had once lied in, "I have worked with many men over the years of my life, I've sailed with cutthroats and killers that served alongside me as loyally as any other friend would. Working alongside Assassin will be of no trouble to me, but I will admit it would pain me to fight against him should it ever happen."

"I see…" Tokiomi whispered to himself before looking back up to his Servant, "And what will you do now?"

The giant turned his head, eyes glazing over as though looking off into the distance, "I sense a battle taking place in the distance. Perhaps there's a Servant brazen enough to challenge the might of their rivals."

He looked back at his Master, a sly smile strangely befitting the Servant's face, "I will return soon, Master. Use a Command seal if there's any issue."

With that, the muscled Archer disappeared, leaving Tokiomi all by his lonesome. The magus sighed to himself as he pushed his glass away, looking out into the courtyard in thought.

He failed to summon the King of Heroes, and better yet summoned a Heroic Spirit with the highest potential of independence even from their own contract. Still, this complication could still work in his favor despite the obvious identity of his own Servant.

Wishing for a specific Servant seemed so much more simple on paper, but apparently the magus in red got more than he bargained for. Tokiomi wanted to be disappointed by the results he had gotten, but for some strange reason he couldn't help but not.

How could he? No other Servant can stand up against the most renowned hero in all of myth.

**-oOo-**

Kirei Kotomine returned to the Church, gaining admission after the defeat of his Servant. Such were the rules of the Holy Grail War, the grounds of neutral territory were resolute as the men and women that held domain over its security.

The younger man sat down on a nearby pew as the older man, his father Risei Kotomine, left. Silently muttering an _Our Father_, he contemplated the circumstances of the first official battle of the Holy Grail War. The explosive sounds of mana infused arrows rending the flesh and bone from the Servant's body as he died in a hail of primitive ammunition still fresh on his mind.

There it was, that strange urge in the back of his head again. Kirei grimaced at the satisfaction that he felt from it. Forcing down the feeling, he listed off the next part of the plans in his head...

And how he'll have to continue carrying out Tokiomi's orders in secrecy.

"Assassin, you can come out now," said the Executor. In a haze of grey, the taller man reappeared before him, not a single scratch on his body and still in the same condition as the day he was summoned.

"What? Not even a _'Sorry?'_," Assassin's composure was relaxed, perhaps a bit irritated from the circumstances that had afflicted him prior, "I understand the nature of the plan now, sir, but was the use of my Noble Phantasm really that necessary for this?"

The man watched as Assassin tossed aside the fake skull mask of the traditional Hassan-i-Sabbah. The hard ceramic clattering across the room as the Servant looked down at his Master.

"It was imperative that you carry out the order without hesitation or deviation. Tokiomi was aware of the situation and acted accordingly to any threats carried out, ruse or not," Kirei explained, rising from his seat and meeting the man eye to eye, "I apologize for the act, but this will allow us more secrecy and erase any notions of the alliance myself, Tokiomi, and my father share."

Seconds passed and Assassin didn't move from his spot, merely staring at Kirei as though contemplating the answer given to him. Before Kirei would voice any more concern, however, he watched as the Servant reached his hands up and grasped at the edges of his helmet.

Kirei watched as his Servant was unmasked before him, the first thing he noticed was the eyes, cold and distant orbs hidden behind a mask of dark irises. His face was neutral yet hardened like any other soldier, if his claims of being a Spartan are to be believed. Nevertheless, his face matched the rest of his build: the apex of physicality and fortitude.

He spoke, this time his voice much more clear without that helmet blaring that slightly static tone, his tone was concise and without inflection, speaking his next words as the absolute truth, "The next time you sic another demigod on me will be your last, _Master_."

With that being said, the air between them seemed to suddenly clear. Placing the helmet back over his head, Assassin slowly nodded and turned back, "I sense something going on in the distance."

"Something?"

Assassin turned back to Kirei as though nothing between them had happened. Perhaps the Servant didn't make a habit of taking things personally.

"A sort of beckoning presence, it's definitely a Servant," perhaps a challenge then? "Your orders?"

"Gather as much information as you can on this Servant," Kirei's eyes narrowed as he lowered his head in thought, "As well as any other Servants that so happen to accept their 'invitation'. Fight only if absolutely necessary."

"What about Archer?" Assassin queried, "It's likely he'll want to fight as well."

"Merely observe," the Executor reaffirmed his orders, "Archer is under Tokiomi's jurisdiction, any issues and he'll use a Command Seal."

Kirei was met with silence once more before Assassin disappeared. The Executor and Master of the Holy Grail War sat down once more onto the pew before the altar. His mind void of a prayer as the thoughts of battle ran through his head.

The Fourth Holy Grail War has finally begun.


	2. Chapter 2: Clash of Heroes

Steel met steel as a battle raged on, a multitude of onlookers watched as a young blonde woman in blue let out a sharp cry as a lance arced across her vision, sending her skidding back and nearly taking off her head in the process. The concealed blade of her weapon still hummed from the blow as she raised it back up, throwing herself back into the fight and retaliating with a swing of her own.

Her opponent was a young man, handsome too if any other woman or even man were to describe him. A small nagging feeling pulled at the edges of her mind to cease fighting, forcing her gaze to wander at his figure for longer than she would prefer, however her resistance to that pull was even greater.

It was a curse of attraction, pure and simple, the damn spot underneath his right eye that could charm any lesser woman with but a simple gaze. It was a nuisance for the both of them and an incentive to strike down her opponent to be rid of the feeling.

"Impressive display, Saber!" Lancer barked a laugh as the two spun around the battlefield now reduced to rubble, the cargo boxes torn apart like wet cardboard, "But how long do you plan on hiding that precious sword of yours?"

A flourish of his spears was enough to cause her to step back, instincts reading the fight as the speartip had missed her throat by mere centimeters as she blocked a wild swing from the lesser spear. In return, she spoke back, "Perhaps once you've fallen shall you gaze upon its steel, Lancer!"

Another strike parried, the Servant of the Spear couldn't be any happier.

As the two fought, the others were witnessing the fight, planning their next moves. The two most obvious was the foreign woman and the owner of the voice that reverberated throughout their arena, the first was an Einzbern homunculus according to the words of Tokiomi, and the second was Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald according to Kotomine, a professor from some place called the Clock Tower.

A dark shadowy figure sat and perched itself on the very top of a nearby crane overlooking the Mion river, listening to the sounds of battle and watching every single move made. From there, Assassin could gleam that this Kayneth was the Master of Lancer and the homunculus was the Master of Saber-

No, the Servant of the shadow pressed a button on the side of his helmet, his vision zooming in even further. Strange… not a single speck of Command Seals on her hand. This couldn't be a Master.

He relayed the information back to Kirei through the link they shared, who in turn processed the information to Tokiomi. The Spartan was only met with silence as he continued to watch the battle taking place from below, not a single sign from Archer either to his surprise.

Much to his curiosity, Assassin flicked the helmet's sensors through several more settings, his vision focused on the obscured blade Saber was holding before settling back into the normal color spectrum.

'_Her sword is even obscured from every form of light on the electromagnetic spectrum… interesting,'_ Assassin wasn't well-versed in the practice of magecraft, in fact he wouldn't have known it even existed if not for the Grail, but he could tell that the spell provided to hide this swordwoman's weapon was a tough one.

That meant one thing: the identity of the sword gave away the identity of Saber. The only thing he could gleam from her was that fighting style, slashes and cuts swung in the same sense as a knight from Europe would, likely German or British.

Lancer's spears were clothed for the same reason Saber's sword was, though with what appeared to be magecraft-reinforced wrappings.

The sounds of battle came to a halt, both Servants right back where they started. Lancer lowered his spears and Saber lowered her blade in response.

"It's a shame that we cannot introduce each other proper, Saber," the man's smirk was melancholic, "But your skill in combat is second to none, woman or not. I am honored to have been summoned for this War if not for simply meeting you alone."

"Oh?" said the Saber in blue, the edges of her lips tilting into a coy grin, "Such praise coming from a master of the spear. The honor is all mine, Lancer."

A vaguely annoying voice suddenly interrupted their brief exchange, "That's enough toying with your prey, Lancer. Saber is a fierce opponent, I shall give her that. Use your Noble Phantasm and finish her quickly."

Lancer's grin grew even wider, the wraps on the longer spear in his right hand disappearing as he dropped the one on his left. In his hands was a standard spear, colored red like a rose, "Tell me, Saber. You've been using wind magic to conceal that sword of yours, haven't you?"

As Assassin leaned in further to get a better view of the fight, he took notice of the two somewhat conspicuous gunmen hiding in the shadows.

**-oOo-**

Kiritsugu's rifle had trained itself on the shadowy spirit perched on the crane above them. The lense of his rifle flaring as the outline of white showed him their onlooker.

This had to be Assassin, the real one. Kiritsugu had suspicions that the fight between Archer and Assassin was a ruse meant to mislead the intentions everyone assumed between Kotomine and Tokiomi, but there was no way to know for sure. And even surprising him was the fact that they had attempted to mislead everyone into thinking this was an entirely different Heroic Spirit altogether.

Their body was still shrouded in shadowy black apparel, but that's where the differences between the Assassin they saw then and the one he was seeing now ended. No withered limbs or skull mask, nor a tattered cloak to signify the Middle Eastern origins of Hassan.

Kiritsugu hummed to himself in thought. This was a conundrum that even he didn't see coming, but what surprised him more-so was the lack of activity that the Assassin displayed. The outline of a dagger was sheathed at the waist, but there had been no moves to attack.

There was more to this than meets the eye, the Magus Killer thought to himself.

"Kiritsugu," a voice buzzed in his ear, "I'm within sights of Assassin, I'll distract him while you take out Lancer's Master."

"Don't bother, Maiya," he belayed her order, still peering through the sights, "I doubt bullets would affect a Servant much, we're unprepared to fight them at this time."

He neglected to mention that Assassin was more than likely acting as a scout, under the assumption that the dagger brought with them was merely a weapon of self-defense.

Kiritsugu looked down at his hand, the three seals emblazoned upon it. With a single command, he could order Saber to strike down the Servant and end a Servant properly.

A hidden attacker was always an issue and ending them would get rid of one complicated situation altogether, especially with a rare opportunity of Assassin revealing himself so easily. But even then…

Everyone of importance had watched as he was completely decimated by the Archer class, arrows piercing flesh and shattering bones on contact alone. Assassin shouldn't even exist, and yet here they were like an act of God. It had to be the act of a Noble Phantasm.

Besides, one of the three Knight classes were out right before his own Servant. Saber only had to distract Lancer before his Master was dead. Killing two birds with one stone, as it were.

"Prepare yourself, Saber," a man's voice cautioned, Lancer's, "I'll have your life this time for sure."

Kiritsugu turned back to the fight, noticing the disparaging sight before him.

"Not if I take yours first, Knight of Fianna," the King of Knights responded, her armor replaced and sword in hand, even as her wrist continued to bleed profusely. Their battle sure to continue.

Until the sky exploded in a haze of lightning.

**-oOo-**

Their fight had been a fierce one, much to the surprise of the Spartan. To anyone else, they could've only seen a blur of blue and green followed by several dozens of sparks bouncing throughout the place as the battlefield further crumbled around them. Their skirmish was a strategic marvel as it had grinded to a halt, resulting in Saber's arm being crippled and Lancer coming out no worse for wear.

"Prepare yourself, Saber. "I'll have your life this time for sure."

"Not if I take yours first, Knight of Fianna!"

Neither would get the chance to take the next strike. The sound of lightning split the air in two as both Servants leapt back out of pure instinct, the sound of braying bulls and the smell of ozone filled the air followed by the rumbling of churning bronze and wooden wheels before finally coming to a stop.

Kiritsugu shielded his face for the moment as flecks of debris and stone had pelted him more than a few times. He lowered his arms as the noise finally died down, revealing a rather concerning new sight.

This was… concerning.

"Lower your weapons, Servants of the Holy Grail War! For you are in the presence of a king!" a voice boomed out towards the sky like thunder as the speaker rose to his full height, arms out in welcome as he grinned, "I am the Rider of this War, but you may call me the King of Conquerors, Iskandar the Great!"

Saber lowered her blade, as did Lancer and Kiritsugu did with their own weapons. Meanwhile, Assassin himself had leaned in closer at what exactly just happened, balancing himself over the edge of the crane as he tried to comprehend the events currently unfolding.

'_What,'_ each of them thought in simultaneous action.

"R-Rider! What the hell are you thinking?! You can't just give away your n-name away like that you moro- gah! " his dwarf for a master exclaimed before earning a quick flick to the face, launching him back into the chariot. Without missing a beat, Rider straightened himself back up, smoothing out his previously billowing crimson cape, predatory yet intelligent eyes gazing at the two before him before he opened his mouth once more.

"As I was saying. I would wish to ask each of you one single question," arms raised on up to the stars as his cape billowed out once more as the grin on his face grew ever wider, "In exchange for serving under my rule, would you care to surrender the Holy Grail to I, Iskandar?! Any and all who shall agree shall be welcomed under my care as allies!"

He was boisterous, loud, a bit of an ape, but no less a potential threat. The King of Conquerors, Iskandar the Great, better known as Alexander. Son of Philip II and Olympias and raised under the belief of being a demigod. Jorge had told the Spartan stories of Greek battles and heroes, strange to think that an older super-soldier even more hellbent on the Covenant's extermination than he was would be an avid scholar on Greek history.

Maybe it was part of training, he'd never figure it out.

Before either Servant could even have the chance to decline. The voice of Lancer's Master had boomed throughout the harbor, the source of his voice unable to be pinpointed due to the effects of Magecraft, "So it was you that decided to steal my catalyst… Waver Velvet."

"I-it can't be!" Waver's pupils shrank to pinpricks as he jerked his head around. Sweat began to form as he knew exactly who this was.

"This is just perfect," everyone could practically hear the smug grin on the Master of Lancer's face as he stepped out of the shadows to get a better look at his old student, "Perhaps I can demonstrate to you what it means for two mages to fight to the death. You've disappointed me time and time again, unworthy of being Rider's Master, perhaps I can help you make up your work by letting you be my guinea pig…"

The threat couldn't have been more clear if it had been carved into Waver's forehead, which precisely explained why the young man was practically curled up into the fetal position as the red-haired Rider looked down at him.

"If the King of Conquerors truly shares my blood, then there would be no sense in even considering yourself just as worthy, Master of Lancer," a voice from beyond spoke, a shower of blue emerged, and from it was a body. The very cargo box creaked under his massive weight and gargantuan size, towering over the newly named Rider by nearly half a meter, "As you can see, this young man, as much of a waif as he appears to be, stands beside his Servant in spite of his fear."

"I couldn't have put it any better!" yelled Rider, much to the anguish of a vertically challenged Master sitting right beside him, "Only those worthy of riding alongside me in the field of battle are worth their mettle to call themselves my Master."

Everyone's eyes were now on the dark-skinned giant standing before them, hair flowing down like the mane of a lion and bearing just as much muscle as one, if not more-so. The aura that radiated from his very presence could only truly be called that of a hero, immortalized like a marble statue that would forever stand the test of time.

Clutched in his left hand was a wooden bow clothed in soft wrappings.

So this was Archer.

The red-haired giant turned to his larger counterpart with a smile on his face, "Those were well said words, Archer. Though we may be enemies for the time being, I'd like to ask for your name so that we would do battle in glory proper."

Archer merely looked to the rest of the Servants stand before him, both Saber and Lancer unconsciously taking a step away from him out of instinct. As heroic as he was, he still gave off murderous intent, "I'm afraid I must decline, Iskandar. However, my first words to you may leave a hint."

Rider's face became quizzical, thinking back to what the man had said not even a full minute ago, "Sharing blood… so a fellow demigod stands before me? And that bow…"

The gargantuan man's smile slowly began to shift into a wider grin, "Ah… now I see who stands before me. With power like yours, there's no doubt about it! This War just became so much more grand!"

Rider laughed, a thunderous laughter that roared and matched the same electrifying intensity of his own chariot. The Servants around him looked on in confusion.

"If that's the case, your secret is safe with me,_ Archer,_" Rider clasped a fist against his chest, "I would be more than happy to meet you on the battlefield, but as of now…"

There it was. The moment those words left his mouth, the air seemed to brim with malice as a dark being seemed to materialize out from across the harbor. The sickening growl of a maddened black knight entering the fray rattled the very air around it before coming to a halt.

"We have an onlooker in our midst," Rider spoke grimly, unsheathing his sword and pushing his young master away, "Well then, it was only a matter of time before Berserker showed up."

"What's the matter, Rider?" Lancer smirked, "Are you going to try to recruit this one too?"

Rider stroked the crimson hair under his chin, "Perhaps not, this one is far too heated from what I'm seeing. Speaking of which, are you both willing to-"

"No," Saber and Lancer simultaneously answered.

"Haha! It was worth a shot," Iskandar barked a laugh to himself as he stood back and watched the upcoming battle from afar.

Darkened hazy air blew and swirled around the beast as it looked up at the Archer from up on above. Before anyone, be they Master or Servant, had the chance to react, both Berserker and Archer vanishing from their respective places.

What followed suit was the sound of an explosion in the distance. Rubble scattered the area where it shouldn't have a moment ago.

Archer grunted as a fist had been driven into his abdomen, thrown through several shipping containers before meeting the concrete wall on the other side backfirst. The heavy footsteps of the black knight quickly reached his ears. Dematerializing his bow, Archer pushed himself back to his feet and met the warrior head on with a roar of his own.

Everyone watched as the pair reappeared before them, Archer's arms wrapped around the knight's waist in a mix between a tackle and an attempt to crush their spine. Berserker planted their foot into the ground, concrete breaking apart and leaving a trail of debris as he did so before slamming both fists into the larger man's back, weakening his grip before following back up with a knee slamming straight into Archer's jaw.

The demigod stumbled back, clutching his face with a single hand as he finally came to a stop. Lowering it back down, all had seen the steady stream of crimson pouring from his lips and nose.

Wiping it away with a single hand, Archer grinned.

"Take up arms, Servant of madness," the Servant of the bow straightened back up, "Who knows? You may even have a chance at besting me!"

Despite the effects of Madness Enhancement, the black knight reached forth and pulled a lamppost out of the ground, snapping off the lighted end and leaving a sharpened point where it once stood. The skin of the makeshift spear began to darken, glowing red crackles seemed to break forth as Berserker began his charge.

Archer made no move to defend as the knight drove the spear into his chest, aimed straight for the heart. The force strong enough to make Archer take a step back. For the briefest moment, many had thought that Berserker had finally finished him off, with Archer being the truly mad one for making no effort to defend.

For that moment, they all thought that Archer's arrogance had finally got him killed.

So it was a surprise for everyone to see Archer take hold of the spear, looking back at Berserker and matching that same murderous glint in his eyes, "Only the best may pierce my body, Berserker. You're better off using your FISTS!"

Upon uttering the final word, the Servant wrenched the spear free from Berserker's grip before slamming it against the knight's face, throwing him into the opposing container and crumpling it like aluminum foil.

Archer dropped the spear before charging back at his foe, the darkened skin and red cracks now disappeared and returning to the state of a broken yet normal lamppost.

"Hmm, that's quite an interesting ability," Rider hummed to himself. The Noble Phantasm of Berserker allowed any held object to become a makeshift Noble Phantasm in and of itself. If that were the case, then that spear should've been able to pierce Archer's hide. Unless…

Berserker and Archer continued their onslaught, a flurry of fists, feet, and various other limbs as each Servant fought for supremacy over the other. Despite being a Berserker, Archer was impressed by his opponent's calm disposition in battle, fighting with each movement as fluid and concise as anyone with a clear mind.

Suddenly shifting weight, Berserker launched his foot back down with the speed of a missile, intent on crushing the giant's foot to gain an advantage. Archer grinned and shifted back to avoid the blow, throwing up a cloud of dust that hid the two in the haze.

There it was, an opening! Right between the fists of Berserker was a clear aim for the man's neck. A single punch could end the fight then and there by severing it from the rest of his body.

Archer threw one last punch, putting all the weight in his body into the final blow and intent on finishing this trivial fight.

_*Whoosh!*_

Pain followed after.

The demigod's fist caught empty space as one side of his vision suddenly disappeared into black, the sound of a crunch as a fist had impaled his abdomen apparent. Archer looked down to see the knight's arm elbow-deep into his chest, the other clutching a set of blackened rock shards.

Ah, clever bastard. While it wasn't an A-rank Noble Phantasm, Berserker had infused his influence on a piece of debris after he attempted to smash his foot in, crushing it in his face before blinding a single eye with his thumb.

Berserker must've been blindingly fast if he managed to accomplish that in under a single second.

Archer stifled a laugh as he coughed up blood, falling back over as the life left his eye.

The dust finally settled and Berserker was revealed the victor. Throwing his head back, the mad warrior let out a beastial cry of victory before setting his sights on the nearest Servant before him, picking up the makeshift polearm before rushing in.

Unfortunately for her, she couldn't do much with a crippled hand.

Saber parried the blow and took a step back, ducking under another swing before retaliating with a haphazard strike of her own. The combined efforts of her own carelessness and Berserker's abilities leaving her open for a free strike.

A flash of red severed the magic from the lamppost and cut through it like a knife meeting butter. Between them, Lancer stood with his crimson spear pointing at the maddened knight, "That's enough from you, Berserker. Saber and I already have an arranged duel. If you want to get to her, you'll have to settle with me first."

Lancer's Master interrupted them, intent on having his Servant pit himself against Saber with Berserker joining him with the use of a Command Seal. Saber faced down two formidable foes with only her sword and a crippled hand.

Iskandar shook his head as he gripped the reins of his chariot, intent on taking matters into his own hands.

That is, until Berserker was sent flying back, the armor covering him warping and bending from the force of the punch. The mad knight let out a rattled scream as he crumpled to the ground.

"I-impossible!" Lancer leaped back, narrowly dodging another swing from his new foe. Stretching out his arms, he ran the blade of Gae Dearg across the flesh of his enemy, failing to pierce it much to his dismay.

Everyone listened as Iskandar burst out into a thunderous fit of laughter once more, letting go of the reins as they all witnessed the newly risen Archer punt Berserker with a single fist through a nearby container.

Archer himself let out a long breath, his skin still reddened from the effects of resurrection, bones popping back into place as flesh and ribs reset themselves. His missing eye suddenly reappearing in his head, blinking as he tested out his renewed depth perception, "Whew, that was exhilarating, Berserker. If I knew you were capable of such trickery, I wouldn't have gone so easy on you."

With his strength back, Archer had finally managed to subdue Berserker with that single punch alone. The divine bowman listened to the faint and injured cries of the mad beast before finally fading away, most likely to lick their wounds.

Lancer's eyes widened, seeing that he was thoroughly outnumbered. Archer's smile faded away as he looked up, "It's three against one, Master of Lancer. I suggest you withdraw, along with your Servant."

Archer looked back down, first to Lancer before turning to Saber, "This won't be a fight he'll win."

Silence pervaded the arena before that grating voice spoke once more, "Lancer, fall back for now. We shall settle this another day."

Lancer closed his eyes, shifting his attention towards the opposing demigod, "You have my deepest thanks, Archer."

With that, the Servant of the spear disappeared, leaving only three other Servants behind.

"Think nothing of it. Your fight with Saber was truly an awe-inspiring spectacle and I would wish to see more," Archer placed a hand on a hip before turning to Rider, who nodded in response "As for you, King of Conquerors, I apologize for never getting that battle, but appears our fight will have to conclude for now."

"Oh?" the red-haired giant raised an eyebrow, "We're evenly matched now, Archer. What's stopping us from fighting now?"

Archer merely shrugged as he turned away, "It appears that my resurrection has sparked a bit of cowardice from my Master. Afraid that such an action would give away my True Name, and having one Servant already know is too much trouble for him. Such a waste of a Command Seal..."

With that, the Servant of the bow disappeared in a haze, leaving behind Rider and Saber.

As they exchanged words, Kiritsugu turned away from the battle, muttering a slight curse to himself as Lancer's Master got away. The threat of Assassin was too high and had caused doubt in his actions. The Magus killer stood up and called to Maiya. Looking back up, he saw that the form of Assassin had disappeared.

He'll settle this another time.

* * *

"_What's the plan of action, Master?" _

"_Keep tailing them, Assassin,"_ the voice of Kirei spoke from the shared link he and Assassin had been connected with. Assassin watched from a nearby building as a car drove off through the streets of Fuyuki, _"Saber is obviously a force to be reckoned with, so every form of weakness must be searched and exploited." _

The Spartan shook his head as he leaped from building to building, landing with a soft thud as each one was made with perfect grace and precision. There wasn't much he could do in the way of scouting for that war should any of the Masters there make a move he didn't like.

It was that sense of control that had given him the title of Hyper Lethal Vector.

And yet here he was tracking a Mercedes-Benz through the streets of some obscure Japanese city and spying on an albino woman and her pet familiar with an oversized toothpick and a crippled arm. It _definitely _had nothing to do with his Master's obsession with this Kiritsugu person.

Not the best mission to be put on, but it was certainly better than the first.

So it was somewhat of a surprise to see the woman's car breaking down midway. The car leaning to one side as one of the tires lay deflated and slashed.

Six looked down at the knife at his side.

_Oops_.

So Assassin sat down at the edge of a nearby building, heads-up display allowing him to get a better look at the two from this distance. Missions like these bored him, but it was better than nothing or getting an arrow lodged in a local eye socket. The Spartan unsheathed his knife, twirling the immaculate matte black blade between his fingers, paying close attention to the pair while simultaneously keeping his dexterity up to standards. Out of the corner of his eye were some local food shops, Koshuensaikan Taizan and Edomaeya being two that stuck out to him.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Assassin pulled himself back up to his feet, turning around to see a shadowy figure standing behind him, "You can stop with the hide and seek act, it's not going to help now."

To his surprise, this stalker strode, no- it was more of a staggering shuffle as they made their way into the light. Assassin couldn't help but flinch at the lifeless thing standing before him, its eyes empty and devoid of emotion as its arms hung loosely by their sides. This could've easily blended into a crowd or pass off as some sort of drunkard if anyone else were to see them in a dark alleyway, if the somewhat casual-punkish clothes they wore were anything to go by.

This wasn't a Heroic Spirit, at least he didn't think it was, and yet this thing managed to track him down even as he scaled across several buildings. It dawned on him that there was one other Servant unaccounted for.

"I see Caster decided to send a familiar," the lifeless man nodded, confirming Assassin's suspicions, "You're probably listening from that puppet of yours, aren't you?"

A slight pause before a nod.

Of course, there was no way for this thing, or even someone as skilled as a Caster class Servant, to find him with the ability to conceal his own presence as a Servant. So that meant…

"You're here for Saber, aren't you?"

The empty man stood motionless, a thin blade sliding out of their sleeve as they then gripped the sharp weapon in their hand, nodding silently once more.

Assassin looked down at the blade before looking back up at the familiar, "I don't know what you're after, but picking fights won't get you anywhere," he turned away, waving a hand dismissively, "Leave, go spy on Saber someplace else."

He was instead answered by rapidly approaching footsteps from behind. Without even a single turn of his head, Assassin threw his dagger over his shoulder, sticking the assailant between the eyes as it finally collapsed, blade in hand and blood pooling out.

The "battle" played out entirely as he expected, yet for some reason still couldn't help but feel disappointed.

The Spartan turned back to the corpse and retrieved his dagger, along with his attacker's knife just for keepsake. He turned back once more to see the homunculus and Saber finally get the car into working order.

Did the Riding skill also allowed some knowledge of fixing transportation? Assassin tilted his head, assuming so if the lack of any strangers in the vicinity was anything to go by. The spare tire they put in place could probably drive them back to whatever headquarters they reside themselves in.

Assassin _could_ give chase, but he's had enough for one night. Besides, Caster's newfound involvement will most surely be of intrigue for his Master's superior.

"_Assassin, what's going on?" _ the voice of Kirei spoke into his mind, obvious concern in his voice.

"_Master,"_ Assassin began, watching as the corpse's traits began to sizzle and fade away, revealing the pale and featureless innards of the thing that attacked him, leaving behind what appeared to be a mobile phone, _"Things have gotten…" _

The Servant picked up the phone, fiddling with the device and aiming at the corpse before disappearing in a haze, intent on returning to the two with news.

"_Complicated." _


	3. Chapter 3: Espionage

_Kotomine dreamt of the end. _

_The earth was a bitter and scorched land, sand and dirt sliced across his skin like razor wire as he trekked through the land. The sky was a yellow and pink haze as a mountain loomed on within the distance. _

_Burning, scorched, tired land. War, battle, skirmish, fight, bloody conflict that lead to the death of an entire planet. He found himself looking up to see those strange crafts hovering miles above his head. _

_Covenant. He didn't know why he knew that word, but that's what he recognized it as. Beams of light struck the ground and tore it asunder out in the distance. Even from here he could feel the heat. The ground was being turned to glass. Crackling, sizzling seas of opaque and fragile glass. _

_For some reason, the priest knew this wasn't Earth. This couldn't be. _

_His body moved, stepping off of a steel platform and past a pair of small buildings, both destroyed by the aftermath of war. His hands were armored, covered in thick plates of solid titanium as he took hold of a rifle, checking the sights and ammunition counter before raising it to eye level. _

_M392 Designated Marksman Rifle. That's what it was called, a bullpup rifle manufactured by the Misriah Armory. Utilizes 15 round magazines containing M118 FMJ Armor Piercing rounds with a rate of 86 RPM. _

_Why did he know this? How did he know this?_

_His body was encased in those same plates of armor. A Heads-Up Display ever more apparent as he marched onwards. _

_A dropship flew by, Phantoms they were called, taking notice as it crawled to a halt and began to descend. The side bay doors opening up to reveal the enemy, disgusting meter-tall beasts with devices strapped to their backs along with tall bird-like creatures. _

_A flash of blue whizzed by his head, turning to see another monster standing not too far away. Their jaw split into four mandibles and standing even taller than he was. It roared in fury as it broke into a sprint, firing the strange alien device in their hands all the while. _

_His body aimed the rifle and let loose a volley of shots before the space between them was finally closed. The monster, that… "Elite", swung the bulky tool at him, aiming for his head. He responded in kind by sidestepping the attack, unsheathing the knife strapped to his shoulder, and digging the blade into its jugular. Violet blood spilled and spurted from the arteries in its neck as it limply fell to the ground, the light in its bestial eyes dimming. _

_He had fought these invaders before so many times, and would kill more if need be. He fired again, picking off three, two Grunts and a Jackal, before moving on. His shields began to waver as hot rounds of plasma bounced off of his body. The man took cover behind some fallen debris, checking the ammo counter: 05 shots. _

_Time seemed to crawl, everything moved as if underwater and sound became muffled as he exited from cover, took aim, firing into another team of Grunts and leaving only the bigger fish to remain. _

_He charged after the next squad of Covenant forces, holding the empty rifle by it's barrel and picking up a much larger weapon with the other before slinging it over his shoulder. They barely recognized him as he landed within the center of their squad. By then, it was too late. _

_Cold sharp steel sliced through a multitude of smaller targets before snapping the rifle over the head of a nearby Brute, only managing to anger and daze it before a bullet perforated it's skull. Now empty handed, he unholstered the sidearm that was his Magnum and kicked aside the Spike Rifle that the Brute didn't even have the chance to fire into the face of a nearby Grunt, cracking its skull upon impact. _

_Aiming up, he unlatched the larger gun he picked up. A shoulder-mounted grey-green device. A full charge lasting two to three seconds before a beam of scorching red light tore through several foreign aircraft before the weapon sizzled out. _

_He tossed aside the useless tool and carried on. _

_The muscles in his body burned like battery acid in his veins, muscles constricting like fraying rope and unbreakable bones being pushed to their limits as the Spartan continued his onslaught through the battered wasteland of Reach. Shields would give out under fire, causing the onset of his gunmetal grey armor finally breaking down. Molten metal burned into his skin as the surface absorbed the plasma energy, a stray bolt struck him across the face, shattering a portion of his helmet. _

_Before long, the ground was littered with corpses, countless like atoms in the sea. Lungs filled with fire, muscles strung with razor wire, and the stress of war taking its toll as he continued to push on even beyond his limits. _

_Another wave of enemy fire brought the Spartan to his knees, the helmet worn beyond belief and lacking ammunition. The man pulled off his helmet, sucking in the dirty barren air for the first time since the Pillar of Autumn had escaped. _

_Much to his fortune, there lied an assault rifle, fully loaded and ready for use. Picking it up, he strode forward to his first enemy, gunning down the Elite before shifting his weight, listening to the heavy steps of a sword-wielding alien before slamming his elbow its jaw, shattering its neck upon impact. _

_Pain wracked his body as streams of plasma sizzled across his suit. The Spartan took aim once more, utilizing the Magnum he previously held onto with his newly acquired rifle, killing two at once before falling over to the ground. Pushing up with his leg, he shoved off the Elite that downed him before another showed up. _

_Failing to notice the sharp burning sensation as another Covenant soldier plunged their sword into his abdomen, Noble 6 only responding with a fatal elbow-strike to the monster's face as it tried for a second time to kill him. _

_Another made its way for him, and another, and another, and another. _

_Before long, it was simply too much before he was finally overwhelmed. An entire army had been after him, the unsung hero of a fierce and determined war. _

_But heroes alone can't win wars. He was proof of that already. A hero who forsook all and outlasted his friends, dying alone on the bitter earth of Reach. _

_However… history would never write it like that._

_After all, Spartans never died. _

_Right?_

* * *

Kirei woke up in a cold sweat on his bed, breathing heavily at the memory that had left his senses. The priest sat on the edge of the mattress, head in his hands as his mind was still processing the memory playing through his mind. He could still taste the bloody copper on his lips, the stench of rotten alien corpses strewn about the barren landscape.

That was hell. The Rapture incarnate from a merciless storm with no regard for human life.

The priest rose from his bed, rinsing his face as soon as he reached the bathroom and drying it off with a nearby towel. Kirei looked at himself in the mirror, trouble brewing upon his face.

There was something inherently wrong with what he had just witnessed. It wasn't the death of Assassin, this "Noble 6" he was known as. All the death and murder and carnage that surrounded the otherworldly soldier that he had summoned, it stirred things within him.

It was a feeling of… he didn't even know what to call it. Exuberance? Satisfaction?

Whatever it was, he forced that feeling to the back of his mind. It was that dark feeling he always tried to hide, but every now and then it would always return. They were his demons, his dark influence upon the thoughts in his mind, his malignance. It wasn't the nature of a holy man and such thoughts should be pushed aside.

So why did he still feel so hollow?

A minute and a half later and he was dressed in his robes once more. His fingers clutched the cross looped around his neck, grasping it tightly to the point his fingers almost split open from the pressure.

He recounted the night before, a surprising turn of events with Tokiomi as well as the brief conversation the two shared. His Servant was nowhere to be found, perhaps having left first thing in the morning and tracking down his targets.

Assassin was efficient, austere, and obedient. Neither held any particular feelings towards the other, their contract was certainly business. That raised the question: what would a man like Assassin wish from the Holy Grail?

Kirei pushed the question aside as new ones formed. What were those things, those… Covenant? They were disgusting creatures, speaking in strange tongues that he didn't know.

What was Assassin before he died?

His eyes closed tightly in frustration before sighing, rarely often did he ever feel this sense of frustration. Nevertheless, the Executor got dressed in the same black attire, the same priestly attire he always wore, intent on learning any recent events within the war.

And Kotomine was never late.

**-oOo-**

It was a surprise for Tokiomi to find Assassin standing in his office, but not an unwelcome one. The Spartan, at least he claimed he was, held a stack of thin white squares in the palm of his hand.

The Servant had previously filled him in on the current identities of the others during their skirmish the night before. Lancer was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the first knight of Fianna; Rider was Iskandar the Great, the Conquering King of Macedon.

And finally Saber, King Arthur, the legendary ruler of Britain during the 5th century. The revelation of Saber's sex was a surprise, but nothing that added much to her ability as the legend of Camelot's King.

So it was no surprise that Tohsaka was in a good mood today.

"Ah, good morning, Assassin," the magus in red greeted the Servant. Assassin nodded in return, placing the objects on his desk, "What are these?"

"Photographs," he answered, "While tracking down Saber, I came across some of Caster's work."

That seemed to grab the magus' attention, "You've located Caster already? This is most fortunate news, Assassin."

"Not exactly," Assassin shot down the Tohsaka's expectations, but was still no less intrigued by the news brought to him, "I know for a fact that they're specialized in what you'd call… familiar magecraft, correct?"

"Creating familiars is a basic ritual, it's not formalized under any specific houses of magecraft," Tohsaka corrected, "However, there are some that dabble in more… eccentric versions. Why the sudden interest in this particular field?"

Assassin pointed a thumb at the photographs, prompting the magus to pick them up and look at them, "I see… did you sense any sort of magic presence from them?"

The Servant shook his head, "Whoever made that thing was able to see through its eyes though, attacked me with a knife too. Suffice to say, I wouldn't have called it a fight."

That elicited a chuckle from the magus, however slight, "Indeed, you may be incorrect that this could simply be an average familiar," his grin soured into a grimace, "If that would be the case, then turning any functional human is simultaneously a waste of time and an abominable act."

"What do you mean?"

Tokiomi set the photographs down, "Imagine this, Assassin. You share a link between yourself and Kirei, correct?"

This was obvious, but Assassin humored him with a nod anyway.

"Alright, now imagine that a human has formed a pact with a Servant, who is then supplying mana to a human-based familiar, whose upkeep would be many times larger than that of a regular animal," Tokiomi explained, "It would be a waste of mana even doing this, be it either for the Servant or the Master."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the conclusion contains an error," Tohsaka answered, "This isn't simply a familiar, but a Doll."

"A Doll…" Assassin pondered the words.

"Specialized mimicry, a cousin of sorts to Golemancy and Puppetry. An attempt to displace the remaining consciousness of the deceased into a hollow shell," Tokiomi explained once more, "There are few figures from myth and legends that come to mind to even specialize in this, but it's very unlikely."

The Spartan turned to him, "Any sort of information would help, sir."

'_The magus Avicebron would clearly be a specialist in golemancy, but his field of magecraft is too narrow for any sort of deviation,'_ Tokiomi looked away, deep in thought, _'Or perhaps King Solomon being the foundation of modern magecraft…? Sure he would have some insight on it. But to carelessly attack those ignorant of Mystery wouldn't add up.'_

"I would need more to go off of, Assassin," the Master of Archer said, "And if a magus plays their cards right, they wouldn't reveal themselves anytime during the war with a Caster by their side."

If Tokiomi had been assigned a Caster, he'd do the same as well. They were relatively weak Servants in terms of power and durability, and often laughably mediocre in terms of agility, especially compared to the knight classes.

The Spartan hummed to himself, "So until either of them slip up, we have nothing to go off of."

"Kirei had assigned you to watch over Saber and their Master, correct?" Assassin nodded, "Keep consistent watch on them. Be they Master or Servant, they'll notice when someone is peering into them too closely and will readjust their movements in order to throw off the enemy. Wait until they get complacent and strike at the opportune moment. Unfortunately, as grotesque as it is, this isn't enough for the Mediator to call attention to. It would need to be something big, something that would violate the masquerade hiding the Moonlit World."

In just a brief explanation, Assassin had listened as Tokiomi ordered him to do what the Assassin class was already skilled at doing.

Did magi really like hearing themselves speak _this _badly?

The Spartan nodded regardless, "I'll gather information on the rest of the combatants while I'm at it. I have a couple ideas as to how, especially with the advantages of my class container."

Tokiomi nodded back as the Servant disappeared.

Silence dominated the room once more as the magus in red leaned back in his seat, pondering to himself over the circumstances of the war already. Two days fresh into the battle of Servants, and he had already gotten a foothold over the rest, an alliance between his protege and fellow allied Master, and a Servant guaranteed to bring him the Grail.

There was simply one problem.

Cutting off his thoughts, Archer appeared in a blurred mirage-like haze, his face stoic and expressing that valiant visage as ever.

"Master," he said, a slight hint of irritation in his voice, "I have returned."

"So you have," Tokiomi Tohsaka returned, his eyes darting back to the two remaining Command Spells on the back of his hand, "I suppose you wish to speak with me over certain matters."

"Less certain and more-so one in specific," he shot back, "I can understand the use of a seal to return me if I were ever in danger, but what I don't seem to comprehend is use of one after a single death, especially one so trivial as Berserker."

The Servant watched as his Master looked down, eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated a response to the hero.

"Your Noble Phantasm is the sublimation of your journey throughout your life, accomplishing many deeds before being rewarded," Tokiomi began to parse his answer, "Nothing short of an A-rank tool, be it magecraft, brute strength, or a rival Noble Phantasm can pierce that divine vessel of yours, correct?"

Taking in the details, Archer slowly nodded, "What of it?"

"From Assassin's reports," Tokiomi motioned to where Assassin had stood previously, "He had informed me that Kirei was unable to get a vision of Berserker's parameters."

"So you sent a knife-touting vagabond to spy on us with your protege to peer through his eyes," Archer raised an eyebrow.

"Kirei is by no means unskilled in magecraft, his talent in elucidation is well-above average," Tokiomi had sent praise to the Kotomine, though disappointed by his lack of dedication over its mastery, "He would have easily been able to gleam every other Servant's parameters, just as he did with Saber."

The demigod's lips pursed as he pondered this statement before realization began to dawn, "So you believe that Berserker is under an enchantment that hides their skillset from the rest of the combatants."

Tokiomi rose from his seat, "While a hindrance, their hidden attributes are a blessing in disguise. Were any other Servant to fight you and take your life, they would be able to take advantage of the situation to either retreat or fight back."

Archer's grimace disappeared, a low chuckle escaped his lips, "A clever use of a command seal, then. A decision that I don't wholeheartedly agree with, but I will admit it does have its advantages. Disregarding my wish to challenge Rider, I will have to readjust my judgement of you, Master."

"I wasn't under the impression that were capable of humor, Archer," the Tohsaka magus smirked back.

"Neither I you," Archer shot back, "Even a hero has to jest every so often, lest they come off as nothing more than walking statues."

Tohsaka opened his mouth before closing it, decidedly neglecting to mention the fact that an innumerable number of statues of Archer existed in an equal quantity of museums and exhibits. Instead, he decided to change the subject, "Fair enough, I suppose. As for Rider… I understand you both share heritage, if historical evidence to the contrary is to be neglected."

The gargantuan Servant nodded, "Indeed, I would wish to meet the King of Conquerors on the field of battle once more, if not to test his mettle and see if he is truly worthy of sharing my blood by spilling it myself."

Tokiomi frowned slightly, looking away from his Servant and out the nearby window, the garden where Assassin's corpse had once stood now in full repair after some payment of workers refurbishing his yard and sending them off with a simple hypnosis spell.

It almost made him reconsider his plan to have Kirei order Assassin to kill Rider or his Master. Both would be preferable.

"Perhaps you shall," was all Tokiomi said. Archer only nodded, taking the words in with some doubt before disappearing in a haze of his own not unlike Assassin, leaving the magus alone once again.

Pushing away any short-sighted plans aside, Tokiomi's own words rang in his mind.

"Hiding their skillset..." the magus in red closed his eyes before shooting back open, realizing the genius that had occurred to him.

Enchantments, Dolls, Magecraft, all of it! Perhaps it wasn't the work of a Servant. Tokiomi's mind in the sea of knowledge had pulled him to one particular piece of information that lay dormant within his own memory.

If he remembered correctly, there was one family that specialized in this kind of magecraft. Dormant or maybe even dead as they were, the possibility was unlikely, but maybe there was something that can put an end to the conundrum of Caster.

He returned to the workshop beneath his mansion, intent on inquiring on the living status of a certain family. It was improbable, but perhaps possible for the Ainsworths to have continued to exist even after all these years.

**-oOo-**

The smell of engine oil and grease nearly overloaded Irisviel Von Einzbern's sense of smell as soon as she stepped into the building, the whirring and clanging sounds of tools and machinery preying upon her ears just as strongly.

Kiritsugu was busy planning for something with Maiya, so the Einzbern woman took it upon herself to get this job done. Thankfully for her, she didn't have to go alone for this endeavor.

"Ahem," her companion had coughed lightly, getting the attention of the man behind a wooden counter who'd been flipping through the local newspaper, "Sir, we require your assistance."

Lowering the newspaper revealed the man in question to be a middle-aged Japanese of below-average stature, yet still bore a couple lengths above Saber and Irisviel. The upper half of his face covered in a bright banana-themed bandana while an unlit cigar lay between yellow stained teeth.

So it was a surprise to the auto shop owner to see two European women with the keys to a Mercedes-Benz 300SL Coupe parked right outside his shop.

Where any other shop of higher regard would see a normal job, this man in particular saw a profit. With a slight cough, the man set aside the newspaper for now and looked at the two women with what could only be called glee, "Well good afternoon to you two, welcome to the Kaname Auto Shop. I'm Kaname Joji, what can I do for you lovely ladies today?"

"I…" the blonde-haired youth closed her eyes as she finally processed his words, "We'd like your services to procure a new wheel for our mode of transportation."

The man only gave her a blank look, "...What?"

"Saber, it's fine, no need to be so formal," Irisviel placed a hand on her companion's shoulder, "We're just here for a new tire, sir. Our old one broke down heading back home and the spare we're using is running thin."

Raising an eyebrow, the man leaned in through the window and noticed the spare tire underneath, colored a tad more gray than the darker three, while the tread was wearing out, "I see. I can fix this no problem."

Irisviel's eyes seemed to light up before calming back down, giving the man a smile, "Thank you so much, sir. You have no idea how much this means to us."

The man hummed lowly, taking in the information that she had inadvertently let slip, "Really now… so you got places to be, yeah?"

"We're just touring around Fuyuki for now," she answered with a nod, "We just don't want to miss anything while we're here."

"Iri," a hand found itself on her shoulder this time, causing the woman to turn and face her partner, "We don't have a lot of time right now," she then turned to the man, "How long would this task take?"

"Ten or fifteen minutes, no problem," the man shrugged, "But I need the money upfront."

"Of course, how much will that be?"

They watched as the man tapped his fingers against a nearby machine, keys clacking with a mechanical click before the screen flashed.

"Eighty-five thousand yen? That's…" Irisviel did the math in her head, "That's more than seven hundred in Europe!"

The man's expression turned sour, "You said you'd pay upfront, right? Don't you know the rates here in Fuyuki, lady?"

Irisviel stayed silent as the man only grimaced, "This is one of the only shops here that guarantee quality, ma'am. And quality comes at a hefty price."

She opened her mouth to speak, "I... I mean, we do have the money, but I just-"

"You're not in Europe anymore, lady," the man leaned over, the two could almost smell the scent of chewing tobacco, "You either pay here, or find some other shop that'll half-ass the job and swindle you out of your money."

He almost laughed at the irony, but caught himself as someone else entered. Another foreigner in thick apparel, this one being a man taller than everyone in the room at a good two meters, even having to duck his head to avoid hitting the top of the doorframe.

The bell chimed as the door finally shut. The man stood behind the two women, shuddering slightly.

"Sure is cold outside," he muttered to himself, pulling the wool cap off his head and stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket, revealing a short crop of dark auburn hair from the man's scalp. The man then turned to the three standing before him, "Hey there, am I interrupting something?"

The shop owner noticed his accent, different from the rest of the two, an American most likely, "Nothing important, just wait and I'll get to you in a moment."

The white-haired woman seemed to flinch at his answer, to which the taller man seemed to take notice, "Really now? The little lady over there doesn't seem to think this isn't important."

"It's none of your own business," the older man's grimace seemed to deepen as he watched the giant lumbering towards them, peering over the edge, "H-hey man, it's no-"

"None of my concern?" craning his neck, he saw the considerably large number on the register, "Geez, eighty-five thousand? What's this for?"

"A… new tire."

Both women watched as the man merely stroke his chin in thought, "Isn't that the price of a full change for all four tires?"

He looked back down to the shopkeeper, now red in the face, "Listen here, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but my busi- hey! I'm talking to you!"

"Pull your car into the garage," he nodded to the two women, the white-haired woman confused for a moment before nodding, "I'm going to have a little chat with our associate here."

His posture was relaxed, but even then there was a dangerous air around him that seemed to set the shopkeeper off.

The door closed with that same chime, now hauntingly terrifying as silence filled the room.

"Now then, I know a scheme when I see one, and I can tell you're a pretty smart guy from the look of things. I'm pretty recent here, so I have one simple question to familiarize myself," the foreigner spoke, a dim glint in his eye as he drew closer, "What do you know of the Fujimura Group?"

The old man paled, seeing the dangerous glare in this man's eyes, _'S-shit, is this guy here to collect?'_

"I want information, and I was told someone like you had a pretty loose tongue on the uptake," the older man gulped as the taller continued his interrogation, "Now here's exactly what you're going to do…"

* * *

"T-that'll be ten-thousand yen," the man made no efforts to move even after thirty minutes, still as a marble statue even as the money was placed right in front of him, "T-thank you, please come again."

_Ding!_

Irisviel and Saber entered the building for a tire change. What they got in return was a complimentary three extra changes, a tune-up, and a much more gargantuan stranger alongside them.

"So you said your name is…-?"

The larger man nodded, pulling the cap back over his head now that they were in the cold, placing the paper bag he had been holding between his teeth as he did so, "Call me Thom... or Tomi depending on the region. The people I know here call me the latter because it sounds more 'naturalized', whatever that means."

While Irisviel only smiled and nodded at the explanation, Saber kept herself between them, eyes flickering to the larger man ever so slightly before looking to Irisviel. Instincts had told her that something was off about him, yet this man gave off no air of being a magus or a Servant.

So why was Arturia so on edge?

"Hey, you two never told me your names," a slight frown crossed his face, but nothing more than that.

"Irisviel Von Einzbern," the woman placed a hand to her chest before motioning to the much more blonde woman beside her, "And this is my partner, Saber."

Saber noticed the crease in his brow, as though reminiscing on a distance memory. Her suspicion began to grow as he slowly turned to the homunculus woman with realization.

Before the Servant could react, the man grinned, "Von, huh? So you're German royalty or something?"

..._Oh_. Saber breathed a sigh as Irisviel teetered her head side to side in a bashful way, "It's… complicated."

"Well, any man would be lucky to have you, royalty or otherwise," the larger man shot a wink at her as they finally stopped at the car.

"Thank you," Irisviel smiled at Thom, "But I'm afraid I'm already married."

She watched as the man frowned for a moment, face still before his eyes widened in realization, "O-oh! M-my bad, I didn't realize you two were…"

Both Saber and Irisviel froze, opening the doors midway as the man's implications began to set in for the both of them.

"W-wait! It's not like-"

"We're not a-"

Thom watched as the two blushed simultaneously and began sputtering explanations simultaneously. Both stopped as the larger of the three chuckled, starting off slowly and low before it grew into a full on belly ache cacophony of laughter, red in the face as he hunched over and grabbed onto the top of the car for support.

"PFFFFTAHAHAA! You two should've seen your faces," the man nearly lost his footing then and here as the two did just that, turning to each other with shocked expressions, "Christ almighty, that was great, you two are really something!"

Irisviel's cheeks were still reddened while Arturia only squinted at the man as he began to calm down.

"Heh… whew! No no, but I understand," he dusted himself off and straightened back up, "You probably have a husband somewhere else here in Fuyuki, I'm fine with that. Anyway-"

Both Irisviel and Saber watched as he turned away, "Where are you going?"

Thom held up the bag, "Had to buy parts for my car, it broke down a while ago and I came here. Lucky you, huh?"

Before he could take another step, "Wait!"

He stopped and turned back to the source of the voice, "Hm?"

"At least let us treat you to lunch!" Irisviel responded, arm jut out to the backseats of the car.

Saber sent the woman an almost incredulous look, the sheer speed of her head snapping towards the wife of her Master would've been called impossible by a normal man had they paid attention to it for too long.

"What are you doing, Iri?" Saber whispered, pulling her closer and leaning in so that only the both of them would hear, "We only just met this man. For all we know, he could try to hurt you."

"He helped us with the car, the least we can do is repay him for his help," the woman answered back with a smile, one that was somehow devoid of ignorance... she knew what she was doing, but what was it? "Besides, if he tries anything, I have you here to protect me."

Saber pursed her lips as she turned back at the man, awaiting his answer.

"You sure?" the man asked, slowly making his way towards them, "You don't have to, that whole thing at the shop wasn't much really."

"Don't be so modest," Irisviel waved off the man's indifference with a smile, "Please, I insist. It's the least we can do."

She watched as the man looked up, scratching his cheek in thought, "Eh… alright, why not? I think I know a good place or two. Really high-end joints on the other side of town."

"We'd be delighted," Iri turned to her companion, "It's been a while since we've eaten, haven't we?"

Saber frowned, opening her mouth to protest before a loud groan let itself loose. Her eyes widened as she placed a hand to her belly, "I-I…"

"Well, someone sure is hungry!" the man clapped his hand against the blonde's shoulder, much to her chagrin, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to order extras for you too."

And just like that, her chagrin was gone. Damned was her weakness for such promises of refined meals…

**-oOo-**

**Hours Later...**

In another part of the city lied what should've been a corpse. Shambling through the night and only seen from the streetlamps that it would pass by overhead, its arm lay limply to its side as though it lacked even the sinew and muscle to keep it steady, while its leg was equally as lame and dragging as the rest.

A single eye discolored, veins and arteries and capillaries contorted, stretched, bulging over its pale skin with the parasites that fed on flesh and pain. This creature was aware of its condition, keeping their face hidden for the betterment of the people around them .

Even under such a grievous status, Kariya Matou still had the common decency to wear a hood.

The makeshift magus of a dying family, the Matou clan being a dried up and withered name that had been forced to take extreme measures for their own benefit, and the man shambling through the streets the way he was now was no better. He was no different from that vampire of a man.

And he hated it. God did he hate it.

Kariya Matou looked down at his hand, the Command seals on the back proving his right as a Master for the Holy Grail War. And in turn had given him an unstable Servant, powerful yet unwieldy as a hurricane. Berserker had made his impression, taking on Archer with swift maneuvers and somehow even managing to kill the Servant. He should've been impressed had the Archer not somehow rise from the dead.

Of course that changed when the mad knight had set his sights on Saber. All hell broke loose thereafter, sending Crest worms into a frenzy and eating away at his body faster than his wounds could be mended.

"Urgh!" Kariya bent over, the wet slap of his body crumpling to the floor as the creatures in his body began to writhe even harder, slicing into his body like razor blades as he vomited more and more out of his mouth, leaving the taste of bile and blood upon his lips.

Then he began to laugh.

The uproarious and pained laughs of Kariya broke the silence of the night, hacking coughs following soon after as he continued onward, leaving a trail of tainted blood in his wake.

That bastard, Tokiomi, he would get his revenge on that piece of shit of a magus. Him and that fucking Archer as well, no matter how many times it took for Berserker to do the job. He'd give as much of his body as he could to kill him

"**Someone seems to be enjoying himself…"** a voice suddenly made itself known. All thoughts went to a standstill as Kariya froze, rapid blinking eyes scanning the streets ahead of him as he gauged the source of this voice.

"Who are you?! Show yourself, coward!" he screamed into the night, met only with a dull silence just seconds later.

He exhaled, it was probably nothing. Maybe his Servant's madness was seeping into him...

"**Kariya Matou,"** the voice spoke again. If Kariya hadn't been strong enough to even bear the crest worms in his body, his heart would've stopped from the bone-chilling voice permeating the air, **"Such hatred, such loathing, and yet to bear it all before me is a sight to behold." **

A figure appeared under the blanket of darkness, just precisely out of range from the streetlamp the Master of Berserker stood under. He knew this was a Servant… but to who?

"What the hell do you want?"

"Oh?" the voice still held that smug tone, "Me? I simply see a troubled soul in need of assistance, you have a problem with that Tokiomi fellow, perchance?"

That got Kariya's attention, "What's it to you?"

"I have my own… grievances against him of my own, so to put it," the Servant spoke coolly, "Help me and I will get you what you so rightfully desire."

The man looked down at the concrete, watching as a fallen worm squirmed across his shoe. Closing his eyes, he knew that this wasn't someone to be trusted, that this was some sort of incomprehensible evil ploy.

The roar of Berserker split the air, reappearing in front of the Matou as he reared his fist back, ready to punch a hole into this new foe. The shadowy black armor of gauntlets flew with the force of a jet engine, eager to spill blood with unrelenting carnage.

Only for it to stop. The fist of Berserker shaking fiercely as it struggled to even touch the Servant.

So it surprised Kariya when he asked, "What do you want me to do?"

The Servant laughed, looking down at the rapidly disappearing Command seal on Kariya's hand,"Haha, fantastic! I simply need you to… run some errands for me, all of this will culminate in the death of your most rivaled foe, this… Tokiomi Tohsaka, correct?"

Kariya nodded, a dark gleam burning in his eyes as the translucent aura of Berserker loomed over him, over this new Servant.

The Servant stretched out his hand, "Then I believe it is settled, we both have a common enemy and shall seek to eliminate him at once. As your new ally in this war, I will tell you my plans to take care of each Servant before reaching Tohsaka."

He was playing with fire, dealing with this new Servant. This man reeked of obvious maliciousness, seemingly charismatic and bumblingly… flamboyant as he may appear. But that didn't matter, what mattered was saving Rin from her corrupt father and… Sakura, the one most in his thoughts, the one that was his sole reason for joining this war in the first place.

Kariya reached out, shaking the hand of this new associate of his

"I can assure you, dear Matou, I will not disappoint," Caster grinned as the sound of an explosion in the distance shook the very foundations of Fuyuki, smile growing ever wider as the smell of smoke began to reach them. With that, the Servant disappeared, "I'll be in touch…"

For the first time ever since the war started, for all his life as a knight of the round table even in his addled and broken shell of a state… the Knight of the Lake was afraid.


	4. Chapter 4: Miscalculation

Kiritsugu found himself standing in front of a ruined crater.

His breath shuddered as he saw what should've been the Hyatt Hotel right now. Pieces of glass and brick lay at his feet as he watched the aftermath of destruction continue to vomit its fiery fumes into the atmosphere.

The charges he set weren't on a timer, the wiring and explosives were all in pristine condition before they were placed. He was always sure, always correct, and always prepared for the plan he would have to enact.

It went off without a hitch for the very first few seconds. Pulling the fire alarm and blending into the crowd as soon as everyone left and crowded him, then after that would be one less Master in the Grail War. The Servant would survive without a doubt, but the lack of mana to sustain him would take care of the rest.

But something went wrong immediately after. So so very wrong.

His breath shuddered, veins nearly torn to their limits at the extended use of his Time Alter. Face remained ever stoic, but the modest amount of torn cigarettes dropped on the ground and shaky fingers told a very different story.

The fire alarm had been rigged… he figured that out afterwards. Kiritsugu never once considered that a third party would ever get involved, and that had been his own undoing.

Or rather, the hundreds, maybe even a thousand people now buried under a concrete grave.

From the distance could one make out some of the bodies poking out from the ruins. Blood pooling like a disgusting display of a fountain, while the small hand of a child poked out of the rubble...

It was his time magecraft that saved his life… but his life wasn't enough. The death of a thousand to kill one was… no… stop!

Kiritsugu had long since gone and the Magus Killer took his place in that single instant, his heart turning to stone even faster than the mythological gorgon could do to anyone. A thousand lives for the sake of the world was a drop in the ocean by comparison.

It was a mistake, but one that held the silver lining of getting rid of one nuisance of a magus.

Little did he know that a ball of mercury had managed to emerge from its stone prison.

**-oOo-**

"Assassin," Kirei spoke, waiting for only seconds before his Servant rematerialized before him.

"What's the situation,?" the Servant reappeared, still wearing that same form-fitting black undersuit and mask.

"Did you happen to see the news by chance?" the priest queried, earning a shake of the head from his Servant in response, "If you're not aware, there was an incident regarding Fuyuki's Hyatt hotel-"

"-and some explosives," Assassin finished, "I know, I was around when it happened. I heard it was a gas leak that collapsed the building… and everyone inside was killed."

Kirei Kotomine stayed silent as his Servant was already putting together the pieces, finally speaking up after some time had passed, "The perpetrator behind this was Kiritsugu Emiya."

That name again, Assassin's worries began to arise from his Master's apparent obsession. Even then, the Heroic Spirit remained silent, pondering the news to himself.

"And now why would he do that?" Kirei asked. Knowing the answer of course, he decided to test his Servant.

"There were traces of magical energy that I sensed there… perhaps it was to take out an enemy Master," Assassin thought to himself, "The only possibilities would be Lancer, since I'd assume he'd want to get rid of Saber's curse to prevent further impedance towards his objective. But even then… he activated the fire alarm… why would he do that if everyone inside was going to be killed anyway?"

Hmph, perhaps the Executor gave his Servant too little credit. Nevertheless, Assassin nodded at his own deduction, thinking on what to do with the information given.

It was obvious there was interference. Caster once again most likely.

Kirei then watched as he removed his mask for the second time since the start of the War. He glanced to himself in a nearby mirror before turning back to his Master, "I've already discovered a way to infiltrate and gain the trust of Emiya's allies in broad daylight, or at least Saber and her companion, it won't be easy until I find an opportunity to strike. However, there are still some key items missing that I need to finalize this trust."

"Oh? Do tell."

"The Einzbern woman is obviously not her Master, the lack of Command Spells are really the only indicator I could go off of… but she's clearly someone that Saber trusts, more so than maybe even her legitimate Master, from what I could gleam from his presence… or rather lack thereof."

All of this from a simple meeting?

Nevertheless, Kotomine allowed his Servant to continue.

"So long as I have the Einzbern's trust, Saber would be unable to suspect a thing. She's wary of me now, though I can break down this barrier with time. But…" the Servant inhaled sharply, "It depends on the funds you have to spare… Master."

Despite appearing as a functionally machine-like and emotionless Servant only used for war, the look on Kirei Kotomine's face was priceless.

**-oOo-**

A wall had almost been destroyed not even a minute ago, one belonging to the Einzbern manor within the dining room. It was done with neither explosive, nor weapons, nor even through magic, just pure raw strength.

So it was perfectly natural to assume the potential damage had been done by the work of a powerful Servant, right? Well, many would assume the Saber class to be the most powerful Servant in the Holy Grail War, so that would be no farther from the truth.

A wall had almost been destroyed not even two minutes ago had Arturia Pendragon let her anger take hold for even a moment. Her Master and Irisviel had left the room after their meeting.

Or rather, it was a meeting between Kiritsugu, Irisviel, and that other woman, Maiya. Saber was left with no response from her Master as he droned on despite her exclamations. It was like sitting there and being told that she didn't know better by callous parents. She may have been a Heroic Spirit, but was she simply that much of a ghost to him?

Arturia's face contorted into a scowl as she strode through the hallway. Pure moonlight poured through the glass, painting a silver portrait upon the red carpets as Saber passed by each one.

The King of Knights wanted to hate Kiritsugu, but she swallowed down that hatred, smothering it with the deeds of his that Irisviel had told her of as well as her desire for the Grail. She had sought it in a previous life, a life she had well preferred than this one.

But did she really? She thought of the battle between her and Lancer, the once in a lifetime duel between two legends. The battle was exhilarating and left her wanting more from that bout, a true fight between two knights, pitting nothing but their honor and blades against one another to see who would come out the victor. Then there was Irisviel, the adorable woman who was practically stuck at the hip with her, always curious and ever joyful to experience the little things of life and the world around her.

That came crashing down when she was contrasted by the man Irisviel loved… the man Saber resented, but could never fully admit to hating. He was her Master and she was his Servant, she hated his methods but could somewhat respect the aspect that he knew their relationship stemmed purely from a singular goal that both sought to achieve.

That much she could at least give credit to.

Arturia found herself looking out of a balcony, gazing down at the trees in the distance. Her head fell into her hands as her eyes scanned through the woods.

This was probably how Guinevere felt every time she left for her duties as a King. Always waiting for her husband to return with that weary and galant smile. Her duties as the ruler of Britain was unforgiving, but it was necessary.

Thinking of Britain made her think of her kingdom, which in turn made her think of her knights, which then looped back to the here and now. Her current thoughts on that stranger they met, that… "Thom", if she remembered correctly.

Saber appreciated his company to some degree, especially when Irisviel was around, they seemed to be make good conversation in contrast to her more… reserved demeanor. It wasn't that Arturia didn't trust him, she simply still had her suspicions.

A day after a fierce battle and they immediately run into someone new, and a foreigner like herself? There had to be some coincidence in that, right?

"Or maybe…" the woman whispered to herself, "Maybe I'm just overthinking this."

Saber wasn't always one to have doubts, always the firm and resolute one. It was what made her a king in all aspects but what lay beneath her trousers, having to hide her true identity behind a mask of resolve.

A flash of gold and her most sacred sword was in her hands, the wind magic dispelled as she traced the dimly glowing blade with a finger. Her left thumb still lay unmoving, forcing her to bite back a curse as she chastised her own foolishness during her duel with Lancer.

Nevertheless that man, Irisviel's new friend she meant, didn't seem to have any intention to harm them even under her watchful gaze, but that didn't make her any less cautious. There was always the possibility, unlikely as it was, that any one of their friends made along the way could be a Servant or any other threat that could pose just as well.

Though Servants were one of their bigger priorities. Aside from that, all they could do now was wait.

She imagined Irisviel and Kiritsugu talking but didn't know what was about, maybe for once her Master showing some genuine emotion to his wife as she smiled.

And in turn, so did Saber.

The woods were still, for only the briefest of moments, nothing moved. Not the trees, the leaves, nor even the creatures that trod upon the earth. The entirety of the Einzbern manor was calm, serene silence permeating the walls.

Until the forest exploded.

Or rather, a series of consecutive blows that leveled a straight path to the manor that rivalled explosions. Shrapnel of wood shards skewered the forest floor as a newcomer trampled through the forest.

Aiming straight for Arturia Pendragon.

Acting on her instincts, the Heroic Spirit of the Sword took hold of her weapon, becoming enclosed in wind magic once more as she leapt off of the balcony, shooting off like a bullet towards this adversary as she was encased in her magic armor once more.

The two finally collided, a crater forming around the two as their weapons were locked together in a fierce stalemate. Finally coming face to face with her foe, their identity was obvious from the get go.

"Berserker!?"

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!" the mad knight roared in fury as they delivered a swift kick into Saber's midsection, forcing her back before finally skidding to a halt.

In his hands was what appeared to be a blackened tree trunk, several branches having splinted and flew off after Saber's singular blow, leaving only a deadly bludgeoning object.

No words could be spoken between them, for having her speak to the mad knight would be like coaxing away a storm with words alone. Saber could grant this mad knight a decent battle, whoever he was at least deserved some dignity before their death.

Instincts fired again and she leaped back at the sound of whistling. A pair of spears embedding themselves in an x-shaped formation before Lancer entered the fray, prying the pair from the earth before holding them in each hand.

"Lancer!" Saber exclaimed as she dodged another blow from the mad knight. Perhaps he had been tracking this mad beast and was lead here, "I am in need of your aid. Assist me in ridding Berserker from the War and we can finally have the duel we've longed for."

His face was pained, contorted into a wrathful scowl as he only pointed his single red spear to her, "I would be more than happy to, Saber. But due to the wording of my master's previous command seal… I'm afraid I must abide by his word… and help Berserker kill you even now."

Saber's eyes went wide as he disappeared in a flash, reappearing on the opposite side of Berserker, who was currently holding Saber still in their bladelock with a bare log.

Right behind the legendary King of Knights.

"I'm sorry," was all he said before thrusting the spear forward, closing his eyes as he did so.

It shamed him to kill a worthy foe so dishonorably. This act daring to stain his very soul for such a cheated maneuver.

_PING!_

Gae Dearg had been misdirected, cutting through the magical armor and grazing Saber's shoulder before the Servant reoriented her balanced, ducking under Berserker's swing as Lancer did so as well to avoid being sent flying into the nearest tree.

Diarmuid whipped his head back before hearing another whistling sound pass by his ears, blocking and dodging several more arrows.

"Archer…" Lancer muttered to himself as he skidded to a halt, turning back to face the two knights locked in combat. He could only watch as another stream of arrows were let loose between them, forcing them apart as their battle hardened instincts had warned them so.

"You're not Iskandar… but you'll do for now," the Servant of the Bow appeared once more with that wrapped bow in hand, the gargantuan Heroic Spirit stood before the blackened knight once more, turning to Saber with a nod, "Berserker shall be mine, Saber. Upon my own name and honor as one of the Servants of the Knight Class, I will allow your duel with Lancer."

Both Servants of Sword and Spear both looked surprised, turning towards each other with their own weapons at the ready as Archer began his own duel with Berserker, who seemed more angered than ever with the larger man interrupting their fight.

With a maddened roar once more, Berserker charged at his foe with reckless abandon. Archer only grinned as his bow disappeared from sight and stood his ground. With unmatched strength, the black knight swung the weaponized log in their hand at him, snapping the improvised weapon in two as it made contact with the giant with a resounding _crack!_

Wood shards and splinters were strewn about the battlefield before Berserker launched another swing from his right fist into the face of Archer, maddening cries of insanity growing ever more louder as he did so.

What he didn't expect was for Archer to catch his fist without hesitation.

"The same trick won't work twice on me, mad knight," the Servant of the Bow spoke with a low growl before retaliating with a strike of his own. Without letting go of Berserker, Archer launched a strike of his own, an uppercut from his right catching the knight directly below the chin of their helmet, causing their head to snap up in pain.

With a slight grunt, Archer took hold of Berserker's arm with both hands while they were still in a daze, whipping around in a complete spin before finally letting go. As soon as both hands left the knight, Berserker found themselves sailing through the forest at mach speeds, the sound barrier breaking as hundreds of trees were destroyed by Archer's counterattack, skipping along the floor like a smooth rock upon water before finally coming to a halt, a small crater having formed as Berserker struggled to stand once more.

Looking back up, Berserker caught sight of Archer, his bow now in hand with an arrow nocked at the ready.

Archer aimed with a single arrow and fired, hoping to catch the maddened Servant between the eyes. Time almost slowed down as he let go, letting the arrow fly as it traveled freely through the air, seemingly slicing through it as it finally hit Berserker. Archer watched as the arrow made contact, exploding in a haze of dust.

The cloud of dust surrounding Berserker combined with his own hazy enchantment made it hard for Archer to make out the condition of his adversary.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!" a roar split the air as out from the dust charged that mad knight. Blackened tendrils from various parts of his armor whipping out in a frenzy as the space between both Heroic Spirits began to narrow. An arrow split the air once more, aimed for the gaps in Berserker's helmet. Whipping about the battlefield, a tendril grabbed a lone rock off of the grass and lashed forth. Arrow collided with blackened rock and the projectile exploded.

All under a second and Berserker continued his onslaught.

Archer frowned and fired another arrow, then another, and another once more, _'So he's using the very battlefield to his advantage… truly an awe-inspiring knight even beneath that shroud of madness."_

But the sounds of battle clashing behind Archer told a different story. Saber and her duel with Lancer was far from coming to a close, but the passion behind each strike sought to end it as soon as possible.

For a moment, Berserker drew closer, arms just barely able to touch the larger man as he reached out with wrathful intent.

Until Archer took a step back.

The mind's eye that lay within Archer read the battlefield around him. Even without truly seeing, the Servant of the Bow was able to tell where and when each Servant was capable of striking. Take, for example, Lancer just about to make a well-aimed strike for Saber's breastplate as she was left exposed due to the negligence of the curse in her arm, back nearly touching Archer as he too was nearly within striking distance.

A single move can change the outcome of any battle. With but a shove from Archer's hand and a swivel of his foot, Saber was sent hurtling away and Archer was able to sidestep the blow.

With that single move, Gae Dearg sliced through Berserker's armor, dispelling the enchantment that beheld his identity for the briefest of moments. While Lancer leapt back, eyes the size of dinner plates as he witnessed the identity of the knight standing before him.

"...Oh," Diarmuid swallowed, glancing towards Saber, who was just now picking herself back up, blood pooling from her lips from the force of Archer's retaliation.

The mad knight let out a roar of pain as he pulled out the spear and tossed it aside, which just so happened to be in Lancer's direction as the blackened enchantment hid himself once more.

"It's too late, Berserker," said Servant turned his head, letting out a grunt of pain as a muscled fist found itself into the helmet of the mad knight. Rocketing like a speeding bullet, several more arrows were shot forth, striking various parts of the Servant before another force slammed against Berserker's back, crumpling the armor like paper and shattering the ground as he met the ground face first as Archer had reappeared behind the knight, relentlessly assaulting Berserker.

"I've already seen your face, Berserker, I already know your True Name. That armor of yours is recognizable by even the lowliest of spirits that exist within the Throne of Heroes," Berserker threw another wild punch, only to be caught in the back and pinned down by the Servant of the bow.

"Show me your true Noble Phantasm if you wish to even stand a chance of surviving against me."

Berserker went still as his foe continued to pin him down, the mad knight now fully aware that his opponent was no longer playing around.

"Show me Arondight, Sir Lancelot."

* * *

Assassin was playing a most dangerous game, hunting a deadly prey as four Heroic spirits were locked in battle just outside and both the Master of Lancer and the Magus Killer were in a fight of their own. Rematerializing into a body of flesh, Assassin felt the line of mana that Kirei had shared with him.

It appears that the priest didn't need his help even against two of Kiritsugu's own allies.

Nevertheless, the Spartan felt a presence within the Einzbern castle, a familiar that he had sensed at the beginning of the war. It was like that of the Doll that he had come across, but many times stronger than before.

The Servant of the Shadows slinked down a corridor with the grace of a cat, hardened instincts fired into his mind as his ears picked up the sound of gunfire. Peeking out of the corner, he caught the form of Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald walking away with a fresh new bullet wound in his shoulder as a result of his carelessness.

He had to give it to the Magus Killer, Assassin couldn't help but be at least somewhat impressed by Emiya's practicality. Never did he think he'd see another user of firearms, especially in Japan.

Brushing away the thought, the Spartan crossed the corridor in silence, not bothering to take the risk of being seen by the magus. Unsheathing his knife, Assassin followed the mana trail, intent on finding this oh-so familiar source that had appeared before him once more. Perhaps the two mortal foes were busy fighting one another to notice this presence, or didn't bother to find out as they were too focused on one another to care.

Nevertheless, the Spartan was grateful for these small details as he traveled undisturbed.

It didn't take too long for the Assassin to find the source of the presence. It only lie beyond a single wooden door, brown and featureless as it was, it could've still been a trap for any Servant foolish enough to-

**PTEW!**

The sound of muffled gunshots and the smell of gunpowder permeated the air, Assassin stumbled back as three new holes had formed on his body, all of which dangerously close to his heart, but not enough to outright kill. The Servant of the Dagger bit back a pained hiss as the bullets had successfully managed to puncture his own bodysuit as blood slowly pooled out from the wounds.

The fact that a mundane weapon had managed to damage him told Assassin enough about the identity of this presence.

Caster decided to show himself.

Assassin pushed his weight forward broke down the door with ease, the frame itself cracked somewhat as the Servant stumbled in, dagger in hand and ready to face off against his foe.

What he got instead was a shadowy figure clutching a stack of papers in their left hand while the other was a thin and still-smoking rifle. Assassin barely managed to catch a glimpse of their appearance before they disappeared in a haze of mana.

Immediately too. His Master must've used a Command Seal in that moment.

It was an office of some sort, a nearby cabinet opened up violently and dozens of sheets of paper strewn about the place. Six walked towards the center of the room and picked one up, studying the contents before tossing it aside. It was information.

Information on the combatants of the war that Kiritsugu had gathered over a period of time.

The sound of even more gunfire caught his ears, followed by more loud crashes against nearby walls. It seemed as though the entire caste was being shaken by the battle going on within the confines of the hallways.

"Speak of the devil," Assassin hissed to himself as he turned and left the room, ignoring the wounds on his chest and turning back to the source of the gunfire.

A single gunshot was all he heard, much different than the rapid fire of the Magus Killer's Calico.

A single gunshot… and just like that, a magical presence died, the circuits of a magus fried out, torn and twisted beyond repair. Sputtering gasps, cries of agony as Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald had keeled over, barely clinging to life as he laid in a pool of his own Mystic Code.

Assassin watched the scene play out from afar, the hallways darkened by moonlight and shattered light bulbs as the mix of blood and mercury reflected the luminescence. Kiritsugu Emiya strode forward, perhaps to finish off his opponent before stopping.

Lancer had returned to his Master's side, both spears held up menacingly as he stared down the Magus Killer, "That's enough from you, Master of Saber."

Both Assassin, peering out from the room, and Kiritsugu watched as Lancer picked his Master up without effort, "I could easily kill you right here and now, especially for interrupting my duel with Saber, but my Master's safety is now my highest priority."

The Servant of the shadows blinked, leaning in to see that Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was now missing yet another Command Seal from his twitching hand. He assumed Emiya had done the same, lowering the submachine gun in response.

Lancer's eyes hardened before turning away, "Your death will not be guaranteed now, as the promise of another fight with Saber shall elate me so. But after Saber is dead, I will come for you next, you pitiful excuse for a Master."

"_Master, Kiritsugu's within range, Lancer's Master has been incapacitated and is currently in full retreat via Lancer," _Assassin spun the blade into a reverse grip, _"He won't even see me approaching." _

As soon as Lancer left, Assassin burst into a silent sprint, the Magus Killer unaware of his own impending doom as the Servant crossed the hallway in the blink of an eye. The blade in his hand intent on digging into the Master's back and piercing his heart before exiting and stabbing into the back of his neck, severing his spinal cord for good measure. Assassin's dagger just barely the tip of a needle's length away from completing his objective-

"_No."_

Before he could even finish the deed, Assassin found himself within the woods. Silent as the death he wished to deliver. The Spartan looked around, sensing several sources of mana some distances away: two stronger ones fading away, both of them obviously Servants; while a weaker one had long since ran from the two former.

Unfortunately for the Spartan, he was aware that the presence was his Master, having disengaged from his own objective and preferring to stay away from the heat of two Servants duking it out.

The command had been etched into his mind as soon as he reappeared here, a command that forced his hand from killing the Master of Saber, one of the most powerful Servants in the Holy Grail War.

The Spartan was completely unaware that his hands were trembling. Assassin-class Servants were calm, methodical types that were tailored to the deaths of unsuspecting foes, particularly Masters.

Noble Six was far from calm, especially with his own purpose of even being summoned taken away from him by his own Master. The Spartan closed his eyes, palm pressed against his helmet, where his forehead would've been.

"I'm getting sick of your games, _Master_," Assassin whispered to himself, twirling the dagger between his fingers in an unconscious habit of irritation. He'd have to speak with Kirei over this apparent breach of his own mission.

He understood that his Master had taken particular attention to Saber's Master… but the Spartan didn't expect such obsession to run this far deep. It seemed as though Kirei's hoping to gain something from their interaction.

That begged the question: what?

A shuddering gasp snapped him out of his thoughts, his senses expanding and tuning themselves to find an even weaker presence beginning to sputter out. With a sigh, Assassin broke into a slow sprint, which for anyone else would've been the equivalent of a competing Olympic sprinter.

It could've been an enemy Master on the verge of death, he hadn't seen Berserker's Master around, but considering the Servant themselves had been handled by Archer's sudden intrusion.

Assassin finally slowed down, crawling to a walk as he finally got within view of his target, who had been lying on their stomach. Only things that stuck out to him was a black suit and… an absurd amount of blood. The gaping hole sticking out of their back wasn't helping either.

The Spartan knelt down, looking over the wounded with a slight tilt of his head. Carefully with both hands, he turned the person over to get a better look at their face.

"Oh," was all the Spartan said. Of all the people he suspected, he didn't expect _her_.

That begged another question, Assassin thought to himself as he looked around the woods: What the hell happened here?

* * *

**Moments Earlier…**

Lancer watched as Archer continued his bout with the mad knight. Berserker's fighting ability, while ferocious, held a level of skill that only a true knight would possess; but even then Archer was holding his own quite well, able to match the black knight blow for blow and even managing to overtake him just by pure brute force.

And to keep up with a Knight of the Round Table blow for blow? Remarkable! Even if he was summoned as a Berserker, the combat ability that belonged to Sir Lancelot never once withered.

But… did Saber know about Berserker's origins?

Diarmuid parried another blow from the shorter woman, her burning eyes completely focused on him with that same intensity.

No… perhaps she didn't, Archer had pushed her aside and felled her before she could get a chance to see. And it would shatter her resolve to learn what happened to her most beloved of knights.

So he kept his mouth shut, for Saber's sake.

"What's the matter, Saber?" Lancer grinned as he thrusted Gae Buidhe once more, watching as sparks flew off of Saber's holy sword, "Having trouble keeping up with a little cut?"

Saber's response was to strike even harder, forcing Lancer to take a step back as he was sent skidding, only able to stop as he dug his lance into the ground.

"Hardly," her answer was partnered with a playful smirk before charging back towards him, forcing him on the defensive with a downward strike, the harsh blow from the wind nearly forcing him to take a knee, but he refused to kneel to his equal, the King of Knights that had honored Lancer in single combat, "Prepare to meet your end, Diarmuid!"

Another gust of wind blew apart his defenses before Saber thrusted forward. Spears in hand thrown out to their sides and exposing him for a fatal blow. But Lancer was prepared to win against his opponent, even willing to make a bold risk in order to hold the advantage.

Saber watched as he let go of both spears, bringing his hands together to catch the blade in his palms just in time. It was by pure dumb luck alone that Lancer's hands had caught themselves on the flattened ends rather than the blade itself, but the abrupt stop still caused some blood to leak from his hands, dispersing across the blade in a red spray.

"As I said before, Saber," the green spearman grinned, "I already memorized the length of your blade, it shan't be necessary to hide it any longer."

The swordswoman pulled her sword back and responded with a swift kick to Lancer's abdomen, throwing him back before catching the spears now embedded in the ground and slowing his movements down to a crawl.

"Whether you can see it doesn't matter, Lancer," Saber replied, raising her sword to eye level, blade pointed at the man, "But whether or not you're fast enough to stop it in time does!"

A burst of speed unparalleled to all fighting shattered the air around Saber, creating a vacuum within that split second as she charged at Lancer in the blink of an eye. The two knights clashed with a ferocity unmet before as the area around them was torn asunder and resembled a battlefield proper.

Meanwhile on the other side of the forest, Archer and Berserker raged on. The mad knight having managed to pull himself free from the giant's grasp and kicking him away, helmet twitching slightly at the sight of his grin.

"Come on then, knight of the Round Table," Archer crossed his arms, "Surely you wish to save that blade for your king, do you not?"

Of course, Berserker said nothing. Archer didn't expect an answer anyway… but he did want a response. So the Servant of the Bow merely unfolded his arms, looking back to the battle of the other two Servants, "And your king just so happens to be nearby, perhaps I can go tell her and let her know that you've made your retu-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!" Berserker let out a high wail of anger, disappearing in a flash and reappearing behind the gargantuan Heroic Spirit.

The Servant Lancelot stood back up to full height, the haze gone and that blackened sword in his hands. Berserker looked back while Archer did the same, a surprised look on his face as his body began to separate, a thin line starting from the corner of his left shoulder to the top of his right pelvic bone.

In that instant, a single life had been claimed from the force alone, and Arondight taking two more in that same instance.

With that, Berserker disappeared from the battlefield, called forth from the choking cries of his own Master as Archer was now left to pull himself back together… quite literally, before he too dematerialized and disappeared.

Tokiomi would not be happy about this revelation...

Only two remained.

Saber coughed up blood from her wounds, bloody vomit sliding down the length of her blade as she looked up at her rival, "I guess, this is the end of the line for us, Lancer," her hacking coughs miming laughter as her lips pulled up into a smile, "I'm glad to have met you, Diarmuid."

Lancer looked back with a pleased smile on his face, despite the gore that covered it, "Likewise, King of Knights, your presence honors me with a fierce battle that should be sung throughout the ages. But… you're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

In the midst of battle, both combatants had decided to end their battle with a thundering finale. Both Servants skewered upon the opponent's blades. Excalibur hidden in its sheath of wind stabbing Lancer through the chest, while Gae Dearg having sliced through Saber's magical armor. Both having missed vital weakpoints by mere fractions… and were now in the middle of a stalemate.

Nevertheless, it was true, they both knew it. One could end the other at any point in time if they so wished, but it was a gamble neither were willing to take. The mind's eye of Lancer saw Saber releasing a burst of prana, widening the wound and blowing his innards apart, while Saber's Instinct saw Lancer slice out her throat with that other golden spear in his hand, sealing her fate with yet another cursed wound.

Two unstoppable forces opposed each other, it would've simply been a matter of which would give out first. The wind blew by, tossing up a gust as the loosened braid of Arturia's hair fell down, clinging to her face as sweat and blood dripped. Even under such grievous conditions, she looked no less kingly, possibly even more so under the heat of battle.

In truth, Saber was fading quickly, not enough mana to even give her the strength to lift her sword. Her wounds were serious, if not outright fatal. But it didn't matter, Arturia wouldn't dare disrespect her opponent by showing such weakness. Not even as he pulled the shorter spear back, aiming for her neck as realization quickly dawned on him.

"Goodbye, Saber," Lancer thrust the blade forward, Saber closed her eyes and awaited death to swiftly greet her.

Instead, she only felt the wind in her hair as a gust blew it back. Saber opened her eyes to find that Lancer was gone, vanished in a burst of mana. Arturia breathed a sigh, blood pooling from her lips as she started to lose balance, "Perhaps next time... Lancer."

With the Gae Dearg gone, there was nothing to keep her standing on her feet. Her face quickly met the grass as her sword and armor disappeared, her vision started to blur and fade as Servant Saber was left to die alone in the woods.

Even as a Servant, she failed to notice the approaching steps of a nearby stranger…

**-oOo-**

Irisviel woke up with a start, pulling herself over to her side as blood spilled from her lips. She let out a shuddering gasp, vision coming into focus as she spotted Maiya lying not too far away from her as well. The young woman looked down to see the three stab wounds on her midsection had disappeared.

It was all thanks to Avalon that she had survived…

Her face darkened as memory returned to her. That man… Kirei…

The clouds passed by overhead, it was still night. How long had she been unconscious? Minutes? An hour? Two?

It didn't matter at this point. What mattered was what happened next.

"M-...Maiya?" the pale woman turned the unconscious woman on her back, seeing blood dripping down from her lips. Eyes widened as her hand pressed against her own lips, the other pressed against Maiya's chest, searching for… for…

_Thu-thump… thu-thump… _

Irisviel exhaled. A heartbeat, it was faint, but it was still there. Her hands shook as mind began to still itself, focusing on the priorities at hand.

The wounds that Maiya had bore began to knit together, the soft green glow of healing magic placing itself into effect as the black-haired gunman was finally stabilized. Irisviel noticed that Maiya looked oddly peaceful for the first time since… well, this is probably the first time at all she ever saw her like this.

Fighting alongside Kiritsugu on all sorts of missions. She couldn't even imagine all the things she's seen and done over the years.

Another thump got her attention. The healing came to a halt as she turned around to see a grisly sight before her.

It was Saber, her clothes were in tatters while her limbs had been wrapped in strips of her own suit. Once immaculate porcelain skin now caked and spattered with blood, Saber's face twitched and contorted into heavily pained expressions as Irisviel stared down in horror.

Irisviel swallowed, breathing in deep and steadying her breathing as soon as she realized she was hyperventilating.

"H-how…?" she tried to speak, words trying to come out of her mouth but failed.

'_How did she even get here?'_ Irisviel's thoughts finished for her. Her eyes flickered down to see the blood trailing from Saber's lips. She immediately responded by laying her hands on the forms of both women lying unconscious before her, focusing her healing thaumaturgy on the two.

It would take longer, now that she was providing for two people rather than one, but they'd be fine eventually. In the meantime, Iri would have to keep an eye on the two and keep them safe for now.

A hollow laugh left her lips for the briefest of moments. Right, now she was the one taking care of them, the same that had been in charge of taking care of her in the first place.

Such was… such was the luck of Irisviel Von Einzbern, she supposed.

Saber was beautiful in her own way as well. A young pretty blonde girl with regality yet bearing a strange type of innocence unknown from the world. That little strand of hair that never failed to stick out was flicked aside as the young homunculus girl looked down, watching as the blood from her body began to fade as her wounds continued to heal.

The largest injury, that gaping and pulsating hole underneath her ribcage began to pull itself together until it left an ugly gash that would eventually heal.

Questions sprung into Iri's mind, but the largest were on her mind: who had dealt so much injury to her that it would force her into unconsciousness… and who went out of their way to patch her up long enough to bring her here?

The first answer was much easier to answer than the second. Of course it had to be Lancer, Saber would've learnt her lesson against Lancer's battle with both spears and would've worn it during the entirety of the fight. Perhaps her earlier wound would've played to Lancer's advantage suffered the consequences… but that fact that she was still here meant that Lancer was probably wounded just as much.

Now for the second answer. Any and all possibilities fizzled out, it couldn't have been a Servant or a nearby Master, they would've killed the Saber Servant purely because of her power. It was an impossibility that now left Irisviel without thought… and that frustrated her to no end.

Whoever it was, she'd have to thank later. But now?

For now, they needed to rest.

**-oOo-**

"...!"

Assassin grunted as a Doll had appeared from within the trees, slamming their fist into the man's gut as he had been suckerpunched out of nowhere. The grunt was less out of pain and more that he was even surprised in the first place. Was this some kind of magecraft that dulled his senses?

The force of the blow sent him skidding back. The punch was comparable to a Servant bearing C-rank Strength. Just what the hell was Caster pumping into these things?

Another appeared out of the corner of his eye. A flash of steel entered the Spartan's hand as he sliced upward, stepping away as several digits had then fallen to the ground.

Three more entered the fold as the last Doll that attacked was clutching their still bleeding hand, now three fingers less than before.

All of them in various apparel. Dresses and suits, casual and business, there was no discrimination over what vessels Caster had decided to take for himself, only that they would fulfill their uses: getting rid of Assassin.

Assassin's battle senses flared to life, dulled however much they were, as every vile puppet began their assault. The Servant weaved through every blow with all the skill of a trained martial artist, retaliating in return with quick stabs through the spines, necks, and heads of his enemies.

Before long, each one had been taken care of. All of which lying in a pool of their own blood. Assassin shook his head, disappointed by Caster's underestimation of his own class.

On the most technical of definitions, Assassin and Caster Servants were by far the weakest in the grand scale of the Grail War. Casters were physically weaker and their magecraft often did little against the Knight classes with their resistance towards such. While Assassins bore no resistance and could only make do by removing the Masters.

Though Assassin would have to give it to this elusive Caster, the fact that he was having to play scout for his Master was certainly giving the Servant a bad impression of his own physical ability. He could only hope no other Servants in a future Grail war would have to go through this horrendous experie-

_SHING!_

The Servant gasped, blood pouring from his mouth as a blade had found itself embedded into his back. The Spartan stumbled forward, eyes bloodshot as he spun the knife in his hand and buried it into the skull of his opponent.

Blade met stone as it clattered against the hard surface of this new foe. Assassin's eyes widened behind his helmet as more and more of these things appeared before him.

Were these… golems?

Thin skeletal automatons began to sprout from the hollowed out vessels of the Dolls they inhabited, like a snake shedding its skin… only on a scale that unnerved even the steel-bound Spartan.

Sheathing the knife, Assassin raised his fists, still bleeding from his wrist and back, one from a surprise attack and the other for… well, he'll have to speak with his Master about that particular issue later.

About a dozen golems, more or less, fingers like blades and their skeletal bodies like the carapace of a scarab beetle… meaning they might as well be shit.

Glowing amber eyes flickered in the dark woods, all of them unmoving as though waiting for a response from the Assassin.

"You're getting desperate, Caster," was all Assassin said before shooting forth with the speed of a bullet. The man's fist smashing through the skin of one golem before sidestepping a swipe from another.

The Spartan would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't pissed off by Caster and his blatant ignorance of his own status as a Servant.

Dodging another stab aimed at his neck, the Spartan took hold of the arm about to gouge him and snapped it off with little effort before smashing it over the golem's head, breaking both skull and limb alike as it fell apart.

An elbow strike and a kick to the side and two more fell in place. Assassin was only somewhat entertained, if he could even call it a thing. He wouldn't often be excited about fighting, but it was a purpose that he was born to do, so even fighting these worthless training dummies might as well perform some modicum of satisfaction to the Spartan.

A minute later and Assassin finally permanently dismantled the golems. His body was marred with slight nicks and scratches, merely lucky hits that the golems had gotten on him.

The Spartan sighed to himself, crushing a broken golem arm beneath his foot, "I'm getting soft."

Nevertheless, he managed to get a feel for Caster's intentions and whatever other powers the Servant of magecraft was capable of. Sending some lackeys after him to get rid of a witness and failing miserably, perhaps to gauge him for the future.

With that being said, Assassin disappeared, leaving only the corpses and broken machinery strewn about.

Unknown to him, two had been watching him through the eyes of these automatons.


	5. Chapter 5: Unanswered

Caster looked down at his handiwork, the results brought a gratifying feeling followed by a sense of euphoria. The man had reclined himself onto a nearby chair in the corner of the room, just a couple miles out from the Einzbern manor and in some nondescript hotel near the river of Fuyuki.

"Ber… serker…" came the voice of his… ally. What a bland word to use, but it was the closest that came to mind, given the circumstances.

Kariya Matou was an absolute mess, huddled into the shade as the worms underneath his skin slithered ever more. He looked more like a corpse bloated with maggots just about ready to pop at any sudden moment.

The Servant frowned, such a thing seemed quite painful. Nevertheless, he turned back to his work without a moment's notice, eyes scanning through the collection of works he prepared since the beginning of the War along with the new additions that had been graciously donated to him.

Information was power, and power was necessary to win any war.

Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Tokiomi Tohsaka, Kirei Kotomine, Waver Velvet, Kariya Matou, and…

Of course, Kiritsugu Emiya wouldn't have any information on himself. Nevertheless...

"You only have two more Command Seals, Kariya dear," he flipped through the next page, "I would ask you not to abuse them for the time being. You'd be useless to me without your Servant."

Caster stared out the window to his left, his master was probably having the night of his life right now, "And also keep yourself out of sight, you're already in an unstable condition as is."

A splash hit him on the back of the neck, a dab of the finger and bringing it to the light confirmed that it was indeed blood, "And what about you, Caster? Y-your master hasn't shown himself either."

"He's preoccupying himself with more important matters for the time being. He's able to move about at night without giving off a powerful mana presence." Caster readjusted his glasses, looking through the lenses and frowning at a fleck of lint on the glass. Grabbing a nearby handkerchief, he cleaned it and returned the now immaculate instrument to his face, balanced perfectly on his ears, "Do not put yourself in harm's way again, understood?"

There was a… well, not a bond. More of a mutual understanding between a Master and someone he could easily snap his neck like a turkey's wishbone before having the chance to call out his mad knight.

"You'll have your revenge," Caster chuckled silently to himself.

Kariya nodded, pulling himself to his feet and making his way to the window, "I will, and then I'll kill that piece of shit who took Sakura."

Now that got his attention, "Oh? And who took Sakura?"

He didn't care who this "Sakura" person was, but the emotion was so… raw! Unfiltered! It simply made his skin crawl in ecstasy at the emotion.

"Tell me more about this man," coaxed the Servant, "He sounds well involved with your personal affairs, perhaps maybe even the reason why you joined this War?"

There it was. That flash of the eyes, that tightening of the skin around frustrated lips! Oh… it was almost breathtaking. Kariya Matou loved somebody, and this man took that dear dear someone from him.

It was a shot in the dark, but the Servant was a smart enough man to make his guesses accurately.

Perhaps he had dove in a bit too deep, Kariya's eyes flickered thither and hither through the room before laying back, relaxing himself in some vain attempt as to not anger the blood worms writhing beneath his skin, "Why do you care?"

"I have my reasons. Please take a seat, Kariya, I don't bite," Caster patted a nearby seat, waiting for the man to shift over and do so, "See, you helped me in such a wonderful way this night. Your Berserker had assisted in putting a nearby Master out of commission, someone who would've been a detriment to your own Servant."

Before the broken Master could open his mouth, a finger was placed to his lips with a quiet shush.

"Forgive me, but it's no one you really care about. Just the Master of Lancer, that's all," Caster picked up the recently acquired folder and passed it off to Kariya.

That dear Magus Killer had such a delectable amount of information. He probably had copies of these files anyway, so it's not like the man was stealing them during Emiya's fight with the Magus, right?

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You," Caster pointed at the man with the folder before setting it back down on Kariya's lap, "Are needed for one more favor of mine before I grant that wish of your own, and maybe I'll take care of this other villain who has your dear Sakura."

He watched as Kariya began to contemplate this. He could almost hear the clicking of gears turning in his head as the worm-ridden man looked back at Caster, "What do I need to do?"

"Compared to the rest of the Masters, you're weak, broken, using a deranged Servant to even compensate for your weaknesses in this war," Caster watched as Kariya glared at him from the verbal beatdown being given.

Regardless, he continued.

"But therein lies an opportunity, Mages are pompous men and women that seek to compensate for their arrogance by subjugating the lesser under their heel, and there just so happens to be a man of such nature, broken as he may be as well but no less stubborn."

"What're you getting at?"

"You need bait to catch a fish," Caster explained as though he was saying it to a child, "And you have enough worms in you to catch two."

Kariya Matou looked down at the folder on his lap, opening it up to find the sneering face of Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, the one he assumed Tohsaka would have before he'd have Berserker crush it into paste. Another flip of the page revealed… what was her name? How do you even pronounce that?

_Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri. _

"What was the name of this other man that's been troubling your burdened mind?" Caster asked, a quizzical tilt of his head spoke of his curiosity.

"Zouken," Kariya spat the name like it was poison, closing the folder and getting up from his seat, "Matou Zouken."

Caster's grin only grew wider, "Did he happen to go by the name of Makiri at some point?"

Kariya Matou recognized that expression: Familiarity.

**-oOo-**

Assassin was in far less than a stellar mood, Kirei could tell as soon as he headed down to the church basement. He found the black-suited Servant leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed and staring at the Executor behind his mask.

No... not at him. Kirei looked down at his hand, tracing it back to Assassin.

"Yeah," the Servant seemed to have read his mind on the matter, his voice parsing every word with an almost irritable manner, "That."

"Is there an issue?"

The Servant stared at his Master for a moment before sighing, "What's your deal with Saber's Master?"

Kirei stopped what he was doing, glancing to Assassin out of the corner of his eye as he awaited his answer, the Servant pressed further, "Was the reason so important that it was worth a command seal?"

"It's… complicated," the priest said, looking up to see that Assassin didn't look particularly satisfied with his answer, "There are questions that I need to have answered, perhaps a reason as to why I was even chosen by the Grail to become a Master in the first place."

"And you believe the so-called Magus Killer has these answers?" Assassin queried, "As for your reasons to have me spy on his allies as well, is that part of your search too?"

"I… don't know," Kirei shook his head, looking particularly troubled by his Servant's passive interrogation, "I suggested that plan to Tokiomi. It was a purely logical step to have you get close to one of the strongest Servants in the War, so it would make sense for him to agree to it."

That seemed to satisfy Assassin, but the Servant had a few more questions, "What about your involvement at the Einzbern Castle? I sensed your presence after Berserker and Archer's slugging match."

"Simply an attempt to get answers directly," Kirei waved off the question, almost sounding disappointed, "It was in vain nevertheless."

"Putting yourself in harm's way wasn't a particularly smart idea, Master," Assassin shook his head, "I know you don't particularly care about my wish, but even then, I'm still an integral part of Tohsaka's plan. Neither of us would be of any use with you killed and myself without a Master when a Servant hasn't even been removed from the battle yet."

"Then I'll simply take better precautions."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Assassin shook his head, straightening back up and turning away, "I'm going to find Tokiomi and let him know what I found."

"Oh? And what did you find?"

"More information about Caster, it's not much of your concern," the Servant shrugged his shoulders, "And one last note… I'd prefer if your Command Seal didn't extend to killing Saber and her Master's allies as well, be more specific next time."

Kirei blinked, "I never specified no harm would come to them. You must be mistaken."

For a moment, Kotomine watched as Assassin seemed to freeze in place, pondering the revelation for what seemed like an eternity. Rather than respond, the Servant merely took to spirit form and disappeared.

Gears began to turn in Kirei's head as he began to wonder about his own Servant's motives, perhaps even the trivializing thoughts of why he had even spared Saber in the first place.

It was… fascinating.

The Priest's lips tilted into a grin without him even noticing, almost unable to hear the quiet footsteps approaching him from behind.

Quickly turning around, the Executor's eyes narrowed at the sight, body tensed as the intruder continued to draw closer. The man's command seals began to glow as Kirei grimaced, "You-"

"Oh do be calm, Master of Assassin," the stranger only said, "I only wish to talk…"

Kirei flickered to the intruder, eyeing him up and down to see that he was disarmed nor did he appear strong enough to even fight in a direct battle, even against the Executor.

But even then…

The Command seals dimmed, Kirei's grimace was still held, but he made no attempt to retaliate, "Talk."

* * *

That night, Assassin sat upon a rooftop.

Of course, he wasn't a liar, he had entered the Tohsaka manor and reported his findings to Tokiomi, even managing to provide a detailed sketch of what he was able to gleam from Caster's appearance.

Despite his stone-cold visage, the Spartan let out a slight chuckle to himself, ironic that keeping a consistent watch on Saber and her Master had paid off with Caster getting cocky, only for him to get away and place himself on the defensive once more. Assassin failed spectacularly in that regard, but left with even more information than before.

From what he was able to see, Caster's appearance bore fashion similarly to middle-class European apparel during the late-1800s to early-1900s, either German or British. Young with silvery white hair and stormy grey eyes. Were it not for the eyes, Tokiomi would've deemed Caster to have been some offshoot Einzbern homunculus that managed to ascend to the Throne, but even then the theory seemed too absurd with the evidence given.

_A homunculus becoming a Servant? How absurd!_ The magus exclaimed.

And the fact that the Servant had summoned several types of lackeys to fight on his behalf was even more of a troubling matter. He was a man who empowered and sent others to do his battles for him.

A Servant couldn't bring carry anything with them as soon as they turned to spirit form, so the papers Caster had decided to look through were left behind, implying a possible photographic memory, either as a Servant skill or as merely part of their own Saint Graph.

Assassin tapped the flat of his dagger against his chin in thought. He looked down, seeing that he was now dressed in his civilian clothes, and withdrew a lighter and box from his own pocket. Of course, a Servant couldn't bring much when in Spirit form, but exceptions could be made.

Using a Noble Phantasm for something as mundane as this? How juvenile.

The Servant withdrew a cigarette from the box, holding it up to eye level and wondering what was so tempting about these little cancer sticks that history seemed to hold so dearly.

Eh, he was a Servant, a Heroic spirit, they didn't have to eat nor did they need to sleep, but the option was available. Nevertheless, a Servant had a stomach to eat but not gain weight, so it made sense to the Spartan for him to have lungs and not suffer from the effects of smoking, right?

Assassin burned the tip of the stick with a lighter, a simple steel case with gold leaf where the hinges met, and inhaled. Smoke filled his lungs and a taste that could only be described as "tar-like" left his lips, coughing slightly as he did so. He removed the cigarette from his lips and extinguished it on the concrete roof.

"Not your taste, huh?" a familiar voice spoke behind him. Assassin turned around to see someone he didn't think he'd expect to meet in person.

"Archer," the Spartan nodded.

"Assassin," the giant nodded back, "I followed you over here, so I decided to pay a visit. I heard you spoke with my Master as well."

The Servant of the Dagger nodded, "Reported my findings to him, Caster's starting to become a real pain in the ass lately."

"And so you decided to indulge in this modern world's pleasures I see. How very progressive of you, Assassin," Archer grinned, still decided to stand, towering over the Spartan by several heads, "I'm catching up to you as well with all the identity searching, Assassin. Found out Berserker's True Name in the process."

Noble Six sighed, "Good for you, but what're you here for, Archer? If I recall now, I think this is the first time we've actually met in person. Aside from..."

Experiencing an arrow through the skull and living to remember it was definitely not a good feeling.

"We're allies, are we not?" the Servant of the Bow grimaced at the word, "I've worked alongside men just like you, though you're more uptight than most I've met, so it's a surprise to see you relax."

Huh, now that he thought about it, Assassin did seem a tad more unedged, but he pressed on further, "And we'll be enemies soon after the rest of the Servants are taken care of."

"I look forward to it," Archer chuckled, "Though I don't expect you'll be able to scratch me with what I've seen from you so far, or lack thereof."

The Spartan shrugged his shoulders, "Who knows? I may surprise you."

Archer hummed to himself in thought, "Interesting… you've changed, haven't you?"

That got Assassin's attention, "Changed?"

"This is the first official time we're meeting," the gargantuan Servant pointed it out, "But the way my Master described you, you sounded methodical, precise, and quite cold."

Assassin raised an eyebrow, "Are you saying I'm not?"

"Of course not, but it seems like you're starting to divide yourself… if that's the best way to describe it"

"Like how Berserker did to you?"

Archer seemed to huff at that comment, almost a pout if it didn't belong on that giant's face, "Very funny, Assassin. I guess you'll figure out soon. Until next time."

With that, Tokiomi's Servant disappeared, leaving Assassin alone once more with his thoughts.

"Divide myself, huh?" Six shook his head at that before looking back down at the box of cigarettes beside him. He thought back to his old memories, before he was a Servant, when he was simply just a Spartan.

Memories of Noble Team flashed through his mind. Things were so much more simple. He was on one side while enemy was on the other, none of this whole battle royale bullshit. Put a gun in his hands and the mission was clear, rather than just being tied to a Master to even properly function. Hell, one of his more… reputable Noble Phantasms could only ever even appear with enough mana pumping through his system. It was once a solid piece of machinery assigned to him… and now it was part of his legend.

"Maybe I'm just overthinking things…" Noble Six sighed to himself.

The Servant of Kotomine glanced down at the city lights below. Despite being an Assassin, looking into his own skillset had informed him of an unnaturally high aptitude for Independence. He didn't know exactly why, but he still had it anyway.

From what he was able to perceive, he had enough in him to persist for two days. He'd continue to keep an eye out for any signs of Caster, but…

Assassin disappeared, dematerializing into Spirit form as he descended into the city of Fuyuki.

It wouldn't kill him to explore, would it? Besides, this was the first time he's ever been to Earth, and he knew just the way to spend it.

Never let it be said that a Spartan didn't know how to mix work with play.

**-oOo-**

Zouken Matou was a patient man, willing to wait for centuries for a plan to even culminate towards his goals. Every step carefully planned and every pawn tuned towards that objective. Even in the body he was in now, if it could even be called one at all, was enough to be sustained for another extended length of time so long as he can feed off of a few outside sources.

The faint yet constant buzzing and slithering of worms and winged familiars were a constant reminder of the plans he had set in motion.

Tokiomi Tohsaka was a fool to give his daughter to the old man, but the Matou was nevertheless grateful for his development. His plan for eternal life would be ever closer to him than originally intended.

The aged man looked out the window, seated on a nearby sofa. Zouken wondered what Kariya was up to right now, or perhaps he was dead and his Servant long gone and returned to the Throne.

It made no difference anyway, that boy would at least provide some modicum of entertainment if he came back. Whether he won the Grail or not, it was a decisive victory for the old man and he'd have no need for Sakura at that point.

She'd be damaged goods for Kariya, but she'd be alive regardless.

_Knock knock knock_

Three taps to his door caught his ears, catching the old magus by surprise for the first time in a while. Who broke into his house and managed to deactivate his Bounded field?

"Who's there?" Zouken demanded, playing up the frail old man act, "I should warn you that even though I'm an old man, I'm still capable of defending myself."

The fact that they broke into his house and had the audacity to introduce their presence to the man either meant they were overconfident, extremely idiotic, or they meant no harm to him at all.

He was met with silence, but there were no sounds of footsteps walking away. Zouken grimaced, preparing an attack just in case as he learned the meaning of the action, or lack of such, given, "Enter."

The door slowly opened and a tall figure stepped forth, their silhouette telling the magus that this supposed burglar was a man, "What do you want from me? I have nothing for you to steal."

"Oh don't be like that. It's not a matter of what you can offer me," the man hidden in darkness finally spoke, his voice a low baritone voice, his arm trailed over and flicked on a light switch, revealing himself before Zouken, "But rather what I can offer you."

Zouken blinked once… twice, his eyes grew wide before rubbing them with his hands, surprised once more, "You're…"

"Caster now, a so-called Heroic Spirit to partake in the Holy Grail War," the man nodded, running a hand through his silvery hair before flashing a grin to the magus, "It's so good to see you again, Makiri."

* * *

The two sat down in the dining room, Magus and Servant seated across from the table with a fresh cup of tea in either of their hands.

"Forgive me if I didn't have any Earl Grey, old friend, but I do hope it's to your liking anyway," Zouken Matou apologized to the man.

The Servant nodded and sipped his tea, scrunching his face up as he peered into the cup, "Blegh, it's not too bad, but it's a shame this country has no taste."

Both men enjoyed their silence for the next few minutes, quietly taking a rare opportunity to enjoy the moment while it still lasted. Caster often preferred a more… chaotic environment, but a man like him still had to be patient with these kinds of things.

Zouken, on the other hand, was still wary. If there was anyone on this planet that he had known over the centuries of living (if he could even call it such), this man now summoned as a Heroic Spirit into the Caster class for this particular war was someone that always had a trick under his sleeve.

Especially if he was seeking the old worm now of all times.

"So," Caster set aside his teacup, pushing it off to the side with a single finger, "You probably have a few questions for me, yes?"

"Maybe a few," the old man shrugged his shoulders, "What bewilders me is that you're able to be summoned as a Servant at all, much more even earn a title on the Throne of Heroes."

It was the Servant's turn to shrug, "It's to my belief that a Heroic Spirit has to be remembered for their deeds and the mystery that surrounded their life for them to even sit upon the Throne. Considering your age, you've heard the stories haven't you?"

"I've read the book," the Matou patriarch shifted his head, looking at the bookshelf on the other end of the hallway, looking at the title of the book sitting on the middle shelf, "I found it well-structured, if rather misconstrued. The tales told none of your more... macabre depictions."

"Oh pah!" the man waved off, "I consider it a double edged sword. Without the mystery, I wouldn't even be here, even if my more accurate depictions would've made me stronger as a Servant."

A snap of his fingers and a book appeared in his hand, a large tome bound in leather with a spine colored in red velvet.

"Your Noble Phantasm, I presume?" Zouken raised an eyebrow.

Caster shook his head, "Nay, Makiri- I can call you Makiri, right?"

"I go by Zouken nowadays," the magus waved it off, "It doesn't matter to me, old friend."

"Don't be like that, Mak- Zouken," the Servant corrected himself, "It's better to 'keep up with the times' as it's so put. But to answer your question… yes and no."

"Explain."

"I shan't divulge in the name, but its power relies on… forbiddence, or stagnation, it depends on the interpretation," Caster explained, "My Class skills allow me to create a territory or fashion items to my liking, preferably to objects that benefited me in life."

He set the book on the table, "My Noble Phantasm brings forth old and forgotten techniques of magecraft. Be they long past or recently dead. Unfortunately, it can't come close to anything to the so-called Age of Gods, but it has its uses, " Caster then tapped a finger on the untitled tome, "This book is a rather recent addition to my library."

"Oh?" Zouken leaned forward, inspecting the first book from a better angle, "The texture seems familiar. How far back does it date?"

"Merely a century or two, its age eludes me," Caster pushed the book next to his empty teacup, "The technique of Doll-crafting was exemplary work from the Ainsworth family, I'm fortunate for their demise. Lest I'd have to rely on… traditional familiars."

Caster shuddered at the word. He wasn't particularly fond of Magecraft, seeing it as rather a means to an end, ironically enough, but it did have its purposes.

The Servant picked up the book and waved it away to his collected with a simple gesture of his hand, "I merely wanted to show you what I was capable of."

"Well, there's no need to gloat, _Caster_," Zouken shook his head in amusement, "You've already beaten me in immortality now with that newfound youth of yours."

Caster laughed, "I'd probably be a much older man as an Archer, but alas, my foes seem to deprive me of my boons."

"Indeed," the magus nodded before realizing something, "How did you find me anyway? For once I doubted that boy was still alive and kicking."

"Your descendent, Kariya if I recall correctly, surprises me too with that bloody constitution of his," Caster noted with a tinge of amusement in his voice, "He's off doing some of my dirty work with that mad Servant of his for me. If I'm right, my Master would be able to pick two unfortunate souls off while their Servant is busy with Berserker."

"Your Master?"

"Ah yes, I haven't told you about Ryuunosuke yet, dear me," the man chuckled darkly to himself, "The boy has a lot of potential, maybe not as a magus but most definitely under my tutelage. Soon he'll grow from a serial killer to a full-blown master of the arts!"

The old magus watched as Caster's chuckles turned into full laughter, mostly in joy, "I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself, but what does this have to do with me?"

Zouken watched as Caster's grin shifted into a grimace, rarely was the man ever truly upset over certain affairs, but the old magus knew that this was a troubling matter that concerned him.

"There's an issue over a certain Servant that tries to dampen my progress in the grand scheme of things, and having gone over several… trivialities concerning the Holy Grail, I need your help," Caster made his way across the table, kneeling over until he was at eye level with the magus.

"It won't happen now, but sometime in the future, I will need you in a… _significant _part of my plans. After Lancer and his masters are taken care of, I'll rid myself of Kariya and his mad dog. Afterwards, I just need to convince one more to tip the scales in my favor. All he needs is a little... push."

Zouken contemplated the situation he was placed into. Despite his nature, Caster was someone he knew he could trust, even knowing that the Servant would spare him if he refused.

Still though…

"What would you have me do?"

Caster sighed, seemingly relieved by the old man's answer, "Well, it's quite simple..."

**-oOo-**

_The following day._

_***RING RING RING RING!***_

"I-wha?"

_***RING RING RING RING!***_

"Oh no! Where is it, where is it? I knew I left it here somewhere-"

_***RING RING RING RING!* **_

"It's in here, Iri."

"Oh! Thanks Saber… um..."

_*Beep*_

"H-h- _Ahem!_" the white-haired woman coughed, "Hello?"

"Hey… Irisviel right?" the voice spoke on the phone, "It's me, remember?"

The woman's eyes widened, the familiar voice finally sinking in, "Oh! Thom, it's you."

"Of course it's me, I'm the one that called obviously," Saber, not hearing the call, gave the woman beside her a look as she began to flush red, "Is your girlfriend there too? Put her on speaker."

"We're not-" Irisviel blushed even further, pouting angrily at the man laughing loud enough for even Saber to hear, "Which button is it again?"

"It should be the one that looks vaguely like a microphone," Irisviel clicked the button, "I heard a click. Testing, this thing on? Y'all lovely ladies read me loud and clear?"

"I… copy?"

"We can hear you clearly, Thom," Saber answered bluntly.

"Ha! That's what I like to hear," the man on the other end of the phone sounded eager, "Anyway, how've you been? I know it's been a couple days now, but I'm just wanting to check up on the two of you since that whole car debacle."

"We've been doing fine, our stay in Japan's been great so far. What about you?"

"I'm glad you asked. It's been a while, but I thought that it'd be nice to hang around with some new people, especially you two," his slightly muffled voice continued to speak through the phone, the sound of crinkling caught the pair's attention, "There's lots of stuff to do in Fuyuki to do in one day, obviously. So… I thought it'd be nice if you two came over to Fuyuki for some time, it's not really much but I brought some stuff to pass the time. Are you free?"

"I…" Irisviel turned to Saber, who in turn gave her a concerned look. The young woman then turned back to the phone, "I'm not really sure…"

Silence was all that came from the phone for the next few seconds before a shuffling sound rang through, "Alright, I understand."

"You do?" Saber raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," the man on the other line answered, his voice rather lax, "It's totally fine, you're probably busy or up with something right now, so no need to worry. If you change your mind, I'll still be here at the park for the next couple hours."

"Alright, thanks for calling, Thom."

"No prob Iri, talk to you later."

_Beep. _

The Einzbern woman frowned as she pocketed her phone, turning back to Saber with a frown, who merely looked back in response, "Did I say anything rude?"

Arturia shook her head, "I don't think so, he seemed to understand that we were busy."

"I guess, but…" Irisviel looked around the manor, the walls and floors utterly destroyed by the battle hours prior, "Kiritsugu said he'd be looking for a new place for us to stay in the meantime."

The Servant of the sword nodded in response, looking down in thought, "With the manor in ruins, it'd be utterly defenseless and we would be open to even easier attacks in this state. And especially this far away from the city, even an enemy Servant wouldn't be opposed to attack in broad daylight."

"So you're saying we'd be safer away from here for the moment," Irisviel quickly deduced, her concerned expression slowly shifting into a smile, "And so long as we're not out in the open at night and you're with me, I'd be safe. That sounds like something Kiritsugu would think of, right?"

Saber's expression started to match Irisviel's as they turned towards the demolished front door of the manor, the car seemed to be waiting outside for them. The Servant held out her hand towards her companion, "Shall we?"

"Of course."

* * *

Thom found himself seated at a wooden bench for the first hour or three, tugging at the scarf around his neck and looking up at the trees. It was a chilly day and the towering flora were already bare of their leaves even as the year was approaching winter. It'd probably look much better in the spring, he could only imagine a thousand leagues of cherry blossoms scattered around him.

The young man looked down at the crumpled set of bags by his feet. Lifting them up with ease, he placed a hand on the plastic containers to feel that they were still warm to the touch.

It'd been an hour since Thom prepared the food, so he was still surprised that it was even warm to begin with… maybe this was a bad idea, right?

This was probably a waste of time anyway.

Thom stood up from his seat, reaching down to pick up the bags. Before he could even turn to leave, the rapid sound of footsteps caught his ears. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and turned around to see… Saber and Iri?

Rather, they seemed to realize he was just about to leave and decided to give chase, "Thom!"

The young man relaxed and lowered his arms, holding the bags at his side as the two women finally caught up to him.

"So you decided to reconsider?" the young man teased, grinning to the both of them as Irisviel seemed a tad out of breath.

"We…" Irisviel inhaled, straightening herself back up after catching her breath, "We realized we weren't as busy as expected. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Oh don't worry about it," he waved off her apology, flashing a playful grin, "I was just letting myself enjoy the sights."

The man watched as the woman opposite of him pulled the edges of her jacket closer to exposed regions, Irisviel smiled a bit sheepishly, "It's a bit chilly, isn't it?"

Thom sighed, giving the woman an equally bashful grin in return as he shrugged, "Didn't expect it to be this cold out when I got here, but I guess that's my fault since we're still here to begin with. If there's something wrong, we can go someplace else."

"No no," Irisviel shook her head, "It's... it's fine. You said there was someplace for us to sit?"

"Mm," Thom nodded, turning towards a lone wooden table hidden underneath a wreath of trees, "It's not much, but if I knew it'd be colder, I'd have just asked to come to your place with all this."

"I'd prefer you didn't," Irisviel shook her head, "It's… under renovations."

The man nodded his head once more, humming as he took in the information. Thom then turned to Saber, "How 'bout you? You holding up alright?"

"I'm fine, if that's what you're asking," Saber answered curtly, "Why do you ask?"

Their companion scrunched his face up in thought, "I dunno, really. You just seemed a bit… troubled is all."

"It's none of your concern," Saber responded, her face still neutral.

Thom opened his mouth to respond, but closed it at the last second, shaking his head to himself as the three made their way to the table. The taller of the three set the bags on the table, pulling the dishes from their bags and unwrapping the plastic seals off. Irisviel and Saber had already taken their seats as Thom set the plates and wares for the two as he continued to prepare.

"It's good today's not windy," Thom mumbled to himself, something the latter two quickly agreed with as the food was finally unveiled for them. Most of it was rice and meat dishes, it was quite a sight for Irisviel. As for Saber…

"Um… Saber, are you alright?" Irisviel asked her companion, who seemed intensely hyperfocused on the food seated before her, "Saber?"

That seemed to get her to snap to attention, blinking suddenly as she turned to the white-haired woman, "Y-yes, Iri?"

Irisviel stared at her partner, leaning in a bit closer for a moment. Saber could do nothing but stare back, a slight bit unnerved by the closer proximity before the former pulled away, giggling to herself while Saber frowned.

The flushed look on her face didn't help one bit either.

"Oi, Iri, don't tease Saber, everyone's gotta eat sometime, right?" Thom chuckled to himself as he hopped over his own seat and sat down with a quiet thump. The two on the opposite end were caught off guard by the sudden weight shift as the table jumped for a moment before settling back down, with Thom looking quite calm all the while, "Anyway, let's dig in."

Despite the cold weather, most of the food was still warm to the touch, the meals filling them with that warmth made the event a pleasing experience, however short it may have been.

While Saber practically engulfed her meal with all the speed and intensity of a singularity, Irisviel had been trying to eat her own with a pair of chopsticks to… less than favorable results, trying to mimic the man sitting on the opposite side's way of holding them.

About an hour passed as the three simply enjoyed themselves, Saber had long since devoured her meal, along with several refills before she decided to speak up first, "Thom, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"

Thom paused in mid-chew as he looked back up at the smaller girl, holding up a hand as he then swallowed, coughing lightly and patting his chest before resuming composure, "Yeah sure, what's up?"

"I… noticed your disposition and the way you carry yourself so… methodically," Saber's words seemed to pique the man's interest.

"Oh? Perhaps an observation to pick at my brain, maybe?" Thom smirked, his grin turning into slight snickering as Saber blanched slightly at the imagery he had given her before shaking her head, "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I wish to ask you… were you ever a soldier previously?"

Thom froze, blinking in surprise and letting the words sink in for a moment before he set his chopsticks down, giving the woman a slight tilt of the head, his expression unchanging, "How'd you figure it out?"

"It was just an observation," Saber closed her eyes, "There's an odd yet practiced coordination in your steps, no matter how casual you try to make it out to be. Aside from that, your build is similar to..."

The girl silently sighed to herself, trying to pick the words carefully without exposing any general idea of her identity without confusing the poor man, "...some people I knew who fought in war."

The man inhaled sharply, heavily wanting to suddenly take interest in his food, "I… huh, even from what little to go off of, you have some damn good intuition."

Saber made no response to that, not breaking her gaze with the man.

Thom pushed his plate aside, deciding to take no more interest in it as he turned his attention to Saber, "But yeah, you're right. I was a serviceman for some time, mostly just me and a couple others I knew fought against some guys that we didn't really know much about, just that they were the bad guys and they did bad things. However, those are memories that I would like to stay… untouched."

The man closed his eyes, sighing once more as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "You can have the rest of whatever's on my plate, I'm not really hungry anymore."

Realization quickly dawned on the shorter blonde woman as she was about to open her mouth to respond before closing it, realizing she had inadvertently unearthed… unpleasant memories.

Thom opened his eyes, realizing that everyone was being uncomfortably quiet, to see Saber looking away from him and bearing a slightly flushed look on her still-stoic expression.

Yet the man knew it was a facade.

It was his turn to speak, lifting a hand in reassurance with a small smile on his face, "It's alright, Saber, you didn't cause any offense and I know you didn't mean to."

Eyes flickered in his direction before the face turned to match him. Though he didn't see it, he could almost hear the sigh of relief that she had tried to hide before her face returned to that same expression, this time with a small upturn upon her lips, her smile matching his before it too faded, "Very well then, thank you regardless for answering me and for forgiving my intruding upon your personal history."

"No need, there's nothing to forgive," he passed the plate to Saber before standing back up, taking up the empty bags and crumpling up into his hands, "I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't hungry."

Saber looked down at the plate, her eyebrows furrowing at the meal given. Normally as a king, Arturia wouldn't be one to take someone else's leftovers, but she had made her own mistake of intruding upon his past… it would be unkind to simply ignore a request given to her as a knight.

Irisviel turned to Saber, now bringing the food to her lips, smiling as the two had made peace as quickly as the issue had been formed.

Besides, it would be indecent to waste food so well-made as this.

As soon as the blonde had finished, Thom had discarded the empty disposable plates and bags into a nearby trash can. Saber and Irisviel gave their thanks to Thom, who merely smiled and thanked them for coming. Before long, the two departed, leaving the man all alone within the park.

Thom waved at the two one last time as they left, their car driving off into the distance. He looked around one last time, seeing that he was truly alone without witness.

No one, it was just him.

With that all being said, the man decided to take his leave, his own business concluded as he disappeared from sight to go about his own day.

However, a slight frown crossed his face as he began to walk away, hands in his pockets as a single word found itself embedded in his mind.

"_Why?"_

He… didn't know.


	6. Chapter 6: Encounter

Rin Tohsaka found herself wandering the secluded streets of Fuyuki that night. Of course, her father had told her to stay out of the city for the time being while he was busy, but there were much more important matters to attend to, even if she had forced herself to disobey him.

She didn't like it, but it was necessary. It was her duty to solve this problem, she would be the one to inherit this land after her father passes it onto her. The title of Second Owner would be her responsibility someday. In a way, this was a trial by fire to prove her worth.

Sink or swim. Do or die. If she didn't have the strength to carry out this title, then there was no point in carrying it at all.

Still, she had to find the people who were making all of her friends disappear and put a stop to it. She didn't give a damn if this was a Holy Grail War, even an innocent like her needed to find them and-

But, what would she do? All she had was her resolve to try and fix this problem and a measly pair of gems at her disposal.

She stared down at the fistful of jewels in her hand. It was her only line of self defense, and then what? What if the enemy was stronger, what if the one doing this was a Servant instead, what if… what if…?

"Shut up," she whispered to herself, "_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!_"

The little girl pulled herself together with a huff, eyes steeling themselves as she marched on into the darkness. This was her decision and Rin Tohsaka had to follow through with it.

Her father said that the Holy Grail War was no place for children, hence why she had to leave Fuyuki for the time being. Despite that, she knew that there were ways around her father's rules. That being his expectations for her obedience and that the train's operator was more than willing to take a jewel as a bribe (thankfully it was small and hadn't had mana poured into it, she knew the occasion would've come up eventually).

Storm clouds rolled overhead, the short traces of rain drops began to pour down onto the concrete ground of Fuyuki and with it were Rin's frustration of never considering to bring an umbrella. Nevertheless, the little girl stepped off the train and onto solid ground, the street lights hanging overhead as she made her way through the city.

It was awfully quiet, even for a place this big. The clap of thunder caused her to jump if ever so slightly, but she bit back the yelp that nearly escaped her lips. Rin pulled out the compass-like device from her back, looking down at it as it seemed to tick ever so slightly.

That was strange, perhaps whatever was causing these disappearances didn't have as much mana as she thought. It was strange to consider, maybe it was just some ordinary person that just so happened to prey on kids?

No, not right. Not ordinary, a monster in human skin. Rin felt the weight of the jewels in her pockets, if that were the case it would be simple to finish them off.

It seemed like forever until Rin checked her watch: forty-five minutes had passed. She sighed to herself, this was supposed to be easy for someone like her. Her! The daughter to one of the greatests Magi in the whole world!

And with a small trip over a small black bag in an alleyway, the daughter of one of the greatest Magi in the whole world just now tripped and fell, crashing to her side as the compass from her coat pocket fell out and began to roll to a nearby sewage drain. With a frantic burst of speed she didn't even know she had, the little girl pulled herself up just in time to catch the small device before it could completely tip over and take the plunge into the watery depths of the sewers below.

Rin let out a sigh as she pulled her arm back, stuffing the object into her coat and pulling herself back to her feet. Her hand pressing into another black bag as she finally stood up.

The bag beside her felt… sticky. Rin let go of the bag and looked down at her hand to see that it was covered in some sort of red… substance…

She froze, feeling a new presence as her compass ticked ever so softly. The drumming of wood and metal slapping against the concrete ground followed it, followed by more and more and more. Soft chuckling filled the air as the little girl looked up to see that she was surrounded by rough looking punks, each carrying an assortment of different blunt instruments.

"Shit, look what we got here boys," one of them whistled to another group nearby, "What's a little girl like you doing here? You know there's dangerous criminals that lurk around these parts."

Rin's breath was caught in her throat as her eyes widened at the sight of the street thugs surrounding her. Leering grins speaking of malicious intent as more and more managed to gather around her.

"I-I'm just lost, mister," she put on a sullen facade, looking at one of the men with a teary doe-eyed look, only to fall to the ground as one of the men shoved her to the ground, her back now slick and soaked with dirty water from the concrete.

Damn, it seems they didn't fall for the "lost little girl" ruse. That was a shame.

"Now you're gonna come with us, little girl, we got someone special you're gonna wanna mee-gah!" the thug didn't have time to finish his sentence as the men surrounding Rin were knocked back by the concussive force of a single jewel.

Rin cursed at the situation she put herself in, not the appropriate course of action for someone her age or as a future magus. Nevertheless, she quickly turned and sprinted away, heading for no particular place, just to get away from those punks. She ran and ran and ran, muscles and lungs burning as she tried to get away before finally coming to a stop.

Her back was pressed against a nearby wall stacked high with cardboard boxes, Rin cringed at smell and the cold dampness on the back of her coat as she pressed herself further, but never once did she waver from her spot. The spirit of resolve swelling in her chest as she listened to those cruel men's footsteps draw closer, she had one more jewel and she had to use it wisely.

The gap between her and the way out of the alleyway was ten meters, move fast enough and she could get away in time. Rin listened to their footsteps slowing down to a crawl, thuds of feet against puddles of rainwater giving away their position now matter how soft their steps were.

Rin Tohsaka let out a sigh before balling the jewel up into a fist and leaving her hiding spot, rearing her arm back before suddenly hearing a click catch her ears.

In his hands was something smooth, metallic, and ended with a cylindrical barrel pointed right between the eyes of the Tohsaka girl, "Gotcha now, you little brat! Now you're going to come with us, slowly and carefully. Since you gave us a bit of a shock with that little rock of yours, now you really caught my boss's fancy."

Rin stood firm, hands shaking up a storm but she hid them behind her back, turning the last jewel in her hands over and over before holding them close to her sides, "I'm not going anywhere with you, you creep!"

Even trying to summon up the pride and confidence of a true magus, the thug only blinked for a solid few seconds before looking over to his lackeys standing right behind him before busting out laughing. He was then followed by a cackling chorus of thugs that could practically be heard from beyond the city.

Despite all that, his gun never strayed away from its path nor did he take eyes off of the little magus girl, "You got guts, kiddo, but you're far from tough shit here, so you better come along with me while I still think you'd be worth more alive.

"And what if I don't?"

The thug sighed at Rin, "Then I don't need you alive, blood for that creep is all our boss needs from you. You don't seem to be using it telling from how airheaded you are."

**BANG!**

A crackle in the air akin to a thunderclap split the air between them, followed by a short cry and Rin fell back, blood spraying in a fine mist as she fell on her back, unmoving.

"Well then," the thug lowered his arms, "That takes care of that… hold on a minute, what's that?"

He watched as Rin's breath shuddered, haggard but still alive, her coat was caked in dark crimson blood, but… but…

Rin's eyes fluttered open, remembering the sound of a gunshot. She looked down to see that she was covered in blood. But there was no pain, she didn't feel an entrance or exit wound anywhere. It wasn't until she looked down did she realize where the blood was coming from.

"AAAAAAAAGHH!" the man screamed, falling to his knees and clutching his wrist with his remaining hand, for what had been left of the former was nothing but a bloody stump, the limb having been cut off and landed on Rin during the confusion, "YOU FUCKING BITCH, YOU DID THIS!"

"Heh, I see Caster's resorting to lowly thugs now," a deep voice caught the ears of the surrounding thugs, a voice that Rin had the misfortune of recognizing. The thug turned around, only to scream once again as three new blades found themselves within several rather painful parts of the man's upper body, pinning him to the wall nearby, "Tracking down the leftover magical presence from a Servant wasn't an easy task. I should thank you, Assassin."

Before the rest of the goons could respond, a flash of silver appeared and a sickening wet sound overcame the sound of rainfall. The remaining group of criminals fell to the ground, dead in the blink of an eye as one last man was left standing, one who didn't belong within the rest of the group sliding a blade back into its sheath.

"Kotomine..." Rin growled, the priest ignored her and turned his attention to the criminal. Despite hating him, the girl grimaced at his blatant ignoring of her before another voice caught her ear.

"Can you stand?"

"I… huh?" the little girl turned her attention to the new voice, another voice she heard before yet was somehow unfamiliar. She looked up to see that same large man, still in that black suit.

"Can you stand, Miss Tohsaka?" his somewhat static voice much more clear as he kneeled down to her level, offering her a hand to her.

She looked at the hand for a moment before looking back up at Assassin, eyes growing cold as she pushed herself back to her feet, "I don't need a babysitter, I could've done this alone!"

Another cry of pain snapped her out of her stupor as Kotomine's hand was around the criminal's neck, squeezing hard as his expression remained unmoved, yet… there was a hidden gleam behind it all. Not that she could see it, of course.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Assassin only muttered before kneeling down to the little girl's height and pulling her away from Kirei.

"I'll... I'll talk!" the thug choked before Kotomine loosened his grip, allowing the man to speak while Assassin tended to the girl behind him.

"The one who hired you, what's his name?" Kirei asked, straight to the point.

The thug's eyes widened, fear would be an understatement of the expression he had shown, "I-I can't tell you that. If I do that, he'll kill me."

"If you don't tell me, I'll kill you," Kirei retorted, stuffing the man once more with another set of blades through his abdomen, covering the man's mouth as muffled cries of pain echoed through the city.

Minutes passed and the man was able to speak again.

"Tell me what you know."

"Listen man, I just work for the guy, it's not like he'd give us his na-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

That was the sound of a priest pushing the Black Key embedded in the man's shoulder deeper into the wall, "L-listen, I c-can't tell you. He has eyes and ears everywhere, connections everywher-"

"Your omittance will only lead to more suffering," Kirei explained with a biting rhetoric behind his words, turning back to see that Assassin had long since covered Rin's face with his hands and plugged her ears.

Rin had watched the priest continued to torture this man long enough. He had held a gun to her head and was about to kill her, but even then what Kirei was doing was just… sick. Before she could continue watching, she felt something thick and heavy and warm cover her face, five digits across her face told her this was a hand, a pair of thumbs lightly pressing against her ears as the sounds of screaming were muffled to near-silence.

The third key was pushed deeper into the thug, the pain so great he couldn't even scream as he simply let out choked gasps, slumping over and hanging onto the threads of life.

Assassin blinked in surprise at the stubbornness of this petty thug. Was what they were doing simply nothing compared to what Caster does to them? This had to be absurd, but he found himself walking towards the man, placing a hand on Kirei's shoulder and lightly pushing it aside, having let go of Rin as the sounds of interrogation had died to a still silence.

The sound of sliding steel caught everyone's ears as the man in black approached the thug, "Tell me and I'll kill you now, quickly and without pain."

The man looked at Assassin, finding his words to be true through all the pain he had suffered. He inhaled, which sounded like it was going through a disjointed reed whistle before exhaling, which was not without several hacks of blood, "His name…"

Assassin leaned in as the man was about to speak… two words, two words that would now determine the fate of the Holy Grail War. He then pulled back only to find himself showered in a fountain of blood and grey matter as the thug's head exploded before he could have a chance. The Servant pulled away in disgust as a bloated insect had crawled from the gaping wound that was the man's neck, wings sprouting from its back and taking flight.

A familiar, it must've been implanted without that man's knowledge and was set to kill him should a condition be met. That could only mean-

Kirei furrowed his brows in thought as the priest began to piece together what has been given.

Watching as the creature took off and began its retreat, the man turned to where his Servant was, "Assassin-"

Just as he was about to give the word, his Servant was already gone, having disappeared into the concrete jungle of Fuyuki.

Before Rin even had time to protest or realize what else was even going on, the priest had already scooped her up into his arms and sprinted off with all the speed and vigor of a veteran Olympic runner. Intent on returning her to Tokiomi's wife… or Tohsaka himself if there's any hindrance along the way.

Kirei looked down at the last two command seals on his hand, looking back up with the intent on them if worse comes to worst.

In the meantime, he would have to put up with the little girl's incessant complaining while she was under his protection and see it as some trial from God to test his mental fortitude.

**-oOo-**

With a perfect landing and skidding to a halt, Assassin had managed to track the flying vermin familiar to its place of origin. It slowly descended to the ground, the buzzing of its wings silenced as the Spartan crushed it under his heel. The crunch of its hardened carapace echoing in the wind.

This had to be the place.

It was an abandoned warehouse. Completely dilapidated, dull, and quite shoddy even for the impartial Heroic Spirit's taste. His heads-up display told him that there were no signs of life to be found.

Willing his body to move, the Servant of the Dagger took a step forward and made his way towards the building. Spirit form would've been an easier task for investigating the area, but any moment of reverting to human form would likely be springing a trap… one that he knew was undoubtedly here.

Mind's Eye was a part of his Spirit Origin, manifested through his own tribulations as a Spartan. The Alterations made on his body raised those parameters, keeping him on his toes as that sense of dread and unease constantly lurked at the back of his mind.

There was a sensation around the base of his skull, the familiar sensing of a magical presence. Assassin unsheathed his knife, spinning the blade into a reverse grip as he slowly stalked towards the presence.

It would be a lie to say that a Spartan felt no fear. It was a survival instinct that all humans possessed, it was what kept him of all people alive. The threat of death was a threat to his objective… to his goal.

The entrance to the old warehouse was without a door, allowing him easy entrance. Eyes flickered underneath his helmet towards every square inch, crag, corner, and crevice of the room surrounding him.

_Plip plop…_

The sound of liquid splashing against hard ground was faint, yet he was able to pick up the sound. Coincidentally, it was within the same vicinity of this magic presence.

_Plip plop plip…_

That same dripping sound, still faint but growing ever more clear. The Spartan weaved through the rust and iron-filled labyrinthian maze that was the warehouse, his footsteps silent as the pitter-pattering of droplets began to grow ever more present.

_Plip plop plip plop…_

He sensed no presence, at least none that gave off the "density" that was a Servant. That being said, Assassin inhaled and turned the corner… to be greeted by a grisly sight.

Red, that was the first thing Noble Six noticed when he saw the woman strung up against the wall. Short red hair, a large red bow upon her once-white bloodstained shirt. Rusty dried blood caked the girl's broken fingernails as large screws had been drilled into the palms of her hands, likely with some heavy duty power tool.

_Plip plop plip…_

Blood pooled from her palms, from the many wounds that she had succumbed to, the crimson dribbled out of her lips as well, all of it filling up a small pail just two feet below her, dropping ever so softly like a leaking faucet.

Why did that bug lead him to this?

Assassin stepped closer, his steps much less quiet, intent on inspecting her cause of death, especially who the perpetrator was. Just two feet off the ground, the Spartan was tall enough to reach the top of her collarbone, so he moved his arm forward, fingers grazing against her skin.

"Hah… h…" a soft gasp and whimper caught his ear, the sounds coming from the woman before him. The woman opened her eyes, catching sight of the man in black before her, those dark brown eyes widened in fear as though she was looking at the Grim Reaper himself.

In Six's case, she wasn't far off.

"C...C…" she tried to speak, her throat dry as a bone, just the very act of speaking was agony for her. Just how long had she been here?

"I know, it's Caster," Assassin answered for her, spinning the knife in his hand as he reached up, "I'm going to see if I can get you down from here and take you to a hospital."

He sensed magical presence from her, she must've been a magus, or a Master. Though the Servant saw a clear lack of Command Seals on her.

"C…" her voice rasped, too dehydrated for even tears to form, "Ki..ll… m-me…"

Assassin blinked once… twice, the Servant stared down at the knife in his hand about to cut the screws from her palms. It was a miracle she was even able to survive this long, not many people would've been able to make it.

And yet she asked for this final mercy from him. He knew now that she probably didn't have long to live.

He was Assassin, a Servant representing the masters of death… it was the only gift he would be able to deliver.

The blade drew closer, the woman closed her eyes as she could practically feel it already against her neck.

"Diar...muid…" was all she said, rasping painfully through cracked lips.

A quick slice, then another, Sola-Ui felt herself falling before a pair of hands caught her. The woman weakly looked up to see her own Grim Reaper holding her in his arms, sparing her life.

Her eyes flashed with anger for only a moment before they closed, lying still as she was too weak to resist. Two fingers were placed against her palm, a pulse, but extremely weak.

_**Ring ring ring ring!**_

Assassin's head snapped to the sound of a phone, directly within the young woman's left pocket. He dug it out, holding it in his hand. The number was blocked, it could be anyone… and yet it decided to ring at this exact moment.

_Beep!_

The Spartan held the phone to his ear, his voice like steel, "Talk."

"_Tsk tsk tsk, I don't think that's a good way to thank someone who left such a valuable lead for you. Besides, the woman before you got off lucky, what was done to her husband was so much worse,"_ the voice was British, too old to be Rider's Master and too crafty to be Lancer's, _"I will applaud your efforts in an attempt to gain knowledge on my identity, but I'm afraid I wouldn't allow that, even for a fascinating specimen like yourself."_

"Using golems and dolls to attack me and now you realize that only a Servant can kill another Servant," the Spartan snorted, uncharacteristically cocky… perhaps this was the only thing stopping him from flying into a fit of rage.

"_Those were meant for your Master. Unfortunately, your Presence Concealment has been quite a thorn in my side, putting a damper on my plans and all… oh and worry not for those dastardly scoundrels I had my Master hire for the time, anyone unfortunate enough to have made that deal with him will shortly suffer similar consequences,"_ Caster sighed, _"I wished for them to see the magnum opus I had in store… but you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette." _

Assassin squinted, concerned with the words this man was exchanging with him, "Magnum opus?"

"D_on't worry about that, you'll find out shortly… or not, it depends," _the Servant only said, he could practically hear the man shrugging his shoulders, _"You probably have so many more questions, with a big confusing one playing directly in that little head of yours, mayhaps?" _

Six said nothing.

"_Why would I choose to reveal myself to you after putting in all the effort towards the contrary? Well, it's simple,"_ the Spartan could practically hear the man lean in, _"You interest me, and I wouldn't let an interest go to waste until it has a chance to prove itself." _

"Then you're a fool," Six merely said, carrying the unconscious woman in his hands after having tended to her wounds, tearing off bits and pieces of his own casual apparel before reverting back to his combat form.

"_A fool, yes, but one who dares to sneer in the king's own court,"_ the Caster continued his wasteful monologue, _"And yet you are a proud little soldier for this king, aren't you? A perfect little wind-up toy for your Master to do with as they please." _

Assassin left the warehouse with the woman in his arms, the phone on speaker as he held the phone with the free hand underneath the crook of the woman's legs, "What do you want?"

"_The Grail, of course, why else would I have answered the call to action for this petty ritual?" _Caster's voice seemed to grow bored, _"And you want the Grail as well, if only to satisfy your own self-sacrificing wish." _

Assassin froze mid-stride, eyes glaring at the phone.

"_Oh, it seems I struck a nerve,"_ Caster snickered to himself, possibly even sensing the cold anger rising from the Servant, _"I've had to wonder for myself: why out of thousands of dying soldiers throughout history were you chosen? You're not a king, a knight, nor a being of divine blood, not even a villain from great myths and legends that contributed to this world. And if you're a soldier summoned from some great war with a wish, of course you'd want your enemy gone." _

Two beings emerged and stood before the Servant… the first materializing in a haze of gaseous ink and the other weakly stepping out from behind a nearby wall, the latter's movements a strange cross of stilted and staggering, like a simple breeze could knock them over.

"_You'd simply take to Spirit form if there were no stakes made before you,"_ Caster said, _"For whatever reason even as an Assassin, you are inherently a good person… and someone like you would never leave those you protected behind regardless of their sins." _

Assassin had enough of the braggart, meaningless smalltalk brought him no where. Placing the woman against the wall, the Spartan crushed the phone beneath his boot, stepping forward and unsheathing the blade in his hands… though he would need a lot more than a simple dagger for this.

To his left was Berserker, shrouded in that black haze and twitching ever so often in that maddened state. To his right was Lancer, both spears gripped in his hands, but something was off about the man.

Namely the blood pooling from his eyes and mouth, irises glowed like burning coals and seemed out of focus… as though he was staring at nothing. The way he carried the spears in his hands looked like that of a drunkard, held weakly in each opposing hand and dipping off to the side every so often. The moon hung overhead, light from the incandescent body glowed against the two spears, Dearg and Buidhe.

Lancer had to be under some sort of spell, something akin to a Command Seal, but from what he was able to gleam from his duel with Saber, Diarmuid Ua Duibne wasn't exactly bleeding from any orifice when he was forced to work with Berserker the first time. His body seemed to twitch every so often, something was very wrong.

Either way, he was an enemy, forcefully or not, Lancer needed to die.

None moved an inch from their spots, Assassin's eyes flickered ever so often toward one Servant to the next. He had wished to fulfill his purpose of killing his foes rather than just playing scout, and fate decided to give him just that, laughing all the while.

To his right, the woman was still thankfully unconscious. Assassin would eventually have to bring her to the Church, his Master could probably do something about it in the meantime. If he simply left her here, Caster would simply order them to kill her… not something he could allow now that he was caught in this trap.

With that being said, Assassin exhaled… and took the first step.

Berserker and Lancer followed suit.

**-oOo-**

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" a voice split the silence as Kirei found himself coming to an abrupt stop, a threefold set of Black Keys balanced between his fingers, holding the child of Tokiomi in the other.

The priest had barely managed to make it to the edge of the city, fast enough to have returned Rin to where she was supposed to be in accordance to her father's orders. Kotomine couldn't care less what happened to the girl if he was being honest with himself.

Then he heard those four words. They sounded vaguely familiar, which is what compelled him to stop.

The source of the voice was just ahead of him, followed by the intense sound of buzzing. Kirei then saw it limping and dragging itself under a nearby street light.

"According to Scripture, it was Christ himself that brought Lazarus from the dead," Kirei remarked, small smile playing upon his lips as he watched the corpse continue to keep twitching in it's own wrath, "But even then I would be surprised to see a rotted corpse with carrion flies continue to breathe. I'd even consider it a miracle."

"Let her go and I'll let you live," Kariya Matou's voice was strained, the weakness apparent as talking was even a pain for him. The worms of that old vampire slithering through his body and eating away at his soul as it supplied him mana, parasites that gave power at the cost of a frighteningly short lifespan and pain altogether. It was a sad sight to see how far the Matou bloodline how fallen.

Kirei Kotomine frankly couldn't give less of a shit, though.

"And what happens if I don't, will you simply kill me?" he mused, listening as the intense buzzing proceeded to grow louder, "You'll attack me while I'm carrying an innocent child? How lowly your own morals have fallen, Master of Berserker."

Like he was one to talk.

Of course, Kirei knew that Kariya could have those wretched insects solely target him without having a single one of them even touch Rin. Unfortunately for him, Kariya knew that Kirei would resort to more unorthodox methods of safe passage.

The single filmed-over eye bulged wrathfully in its socket as the winged Crest worms began their assault. Each and every single one of them flying with neither pattern or concern, all in one single, chaotic charge as Kariya gave the order to attack Kirei. Unfortunately, the attack was too late as a single Black Key drew itself closer to the small of Rin's neck.

A vortex of insects stormed around Kirei, flying close but daring not to touch as each one squealed, hissed, and buzzed with wrathful intent. It resembled a grotesque reenactment of the Red Sea's parting.

Suffice to say: Kirei knew that Kariya wouldn't let Rin get hurt, and Kariya knew that Kirei was more than capable of doing that. Of course, this was all a farce, Kotomine had a job to do along with… personal matters he would see through to the end.

The Executor had done his research on the Matou, his hatred against Tokiomi probably also stemmed towards keeping his daughters away from him. And from the abuse he had performed on his body and the condition it was in, who knows how little of a reasonable state the man was in.

Of course, there was always convincing Kariya that Kirei was simply returning Rin to her mother and could give his proof by offering her to him as a sign of faith and good will.

'_...But where would the fun in that be?'_ Kirei thought to himself.

The two stood on the opposite sides of a nearby train station, Kirei paid no mind to the Matou familiars as he continued to move onward. The insects grew closer with each step, the Black Key drawing closer to Rin, who had long been unconscious… Kirei would have to ask God for forgiveness for failing that supposed test of his.

"It appears that we are at an impasse," Kirei smirked, reveling in Kariya's reactions as he stepped forward again, blade held close to the little girl as a gesture of his control. Even from a distance, he could see that Kariya still had two command seals left, glowing as it was held out.

Kirei's smirk grew even wider, the remaining command seals on his own began to glow as well.

Their Servants would have to decide who would leave here alive.

"By the power of my Command seal," they both spoke in unison, " I order you-"

"-Berserker-"

"-Assassin-"

"-kill my enemy!"

**-oOo-**

It was by pure skill that Assassin was even able to survive.

The spearman had been the first to strike, followed by the mad knight with a slab of sheet metal fashioned into a crude sword. The pair worked together in a frightening unison that would've probably cut down Saber with ease had the two actually go through with the plan without Archer or Rider's interference.

The Spartan ignored the stabbing pain in his left shoulder as he skidded back, tossing up a cloud of dust as he came to a halt, having been nicked by the yellow spear in the process before having to dive under a swing from Berserker. His eyes flickered to Lancer, who was currently charging straight for him while Berserker flanked him from the left.

The shorter spear, Gau Buidhe, had severed functionality in his left arm and pretty much left him crippled with one arm clutching a single dagger in his hand. His priority was now getting rid of Lancer at all costs.

Assassin grimaced at the situation he was put in. For the Spartan, _this_ was a battle, a clash with no flashy movements displayed for the enemy like some sort of peacock. Every single move was made with the intent to kill. What felt like an eternity of battle was merely just short of a minute, the accumulation of wounds causing the Servant to cough up a glob of his own blood.

It also seemed to reinforce that there was something wrong with Lancer, honorable bastard that he appeared to be.

Two seconds, there was a gap of two seconds until impact. Berserker drew closer with every one that passed and Lancer drew forward with that killing intent of his all the same. Assassin's left arm hung limply, blood pooled out at a constant pace while the other clutched the combat knife he never separated himself from.

Damn his E-rank luck.

Drawing in mana within himself, another second passed, one more until his demise would be met. The Spartan's newfound resolve steeled his mind in the process, Mind's Eye keeping watch on Berserker as he dove straight towards Lancer.

It was a terrible gamble with low probability of success, but Assassin was in too much of a desperate situation to do much else. Everything hinged on a single possibility.

Stepping in, the blade left Assassin's hand and was sent spinning in the Lancer's direction. A whirlwind of steel intent on severing the man's head from his shoulders.

Gae Dearg, being the longer of the two, had been aimed specifically for the Spartan due to the difference in reach, leaving Gae Buidhe for a follow up attack should an opening be made. With the knife now a clear threat to Lancer's existence, the Servant had no choice but to use the spear to block it, raising it up as the knife shattered into pieces, no longer holding the power it once bore in the hands of the Spartan.

A flash of pain wracked Lancer as a second knife found itself embedded between his ribs, finding his heart… while the crimson spear of exorcism found itself gouged through the abdomen of Assassin.

Despite whatever being was now controlling him, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne's eyes finally found their moment of clarity. In that second, finally meeting his end to an adversary he had never even met, the Servant felt a sense of loss.

He'd never be able to face off against that beautiful and deadly Saber, and his Master was now likely dead with the Servant now bound and puppeted by another… but even then, he fought alongside a knight of the Round Table, despite the conditions he was in as a Berserker, and he earned one last fight even from the torture he was put through.

This was… truly a conflicted feeling the knight of Fianna had felt. With the core of his vessel torn to shreds, so too was his anchor to the world… by nothing more than a simple switchblade the Spartan had pocketed off of a mindless Puppet.

The first one that earned him Caster's attention.

Assassin's second was up, Berserker's roars of fury making his intentions _quite_ clear. The reflexes every Spartan was embedded with began to kick into high gear, the blade in the mad knight's hand was clearly just over a meter in length from what Six would see. He needed something longer than that, another gamble to take in order to test his abilities as a Servant.

Hyper Lethal Vector, an A-ranked skill that demonstrated his aptitude over weaponry. As far as he could tell, only one other man would be capable of possessing this skill if they were a Servant.

Grasping the weapon within his hand gave it "Killing Intent", being able to wound Servants so long as the Spartan was holding it. The only limitation Assassin knew of it was that its power did not extend towards improvised weapons, unlike Berserker's own ability. As soon as a weapon leaves his hands, it reverts to the state of "Mundane"... and so the Heroic Spirit gambled once again, testing the limitations of the vessel that was Assassin.

_SHING!_

Steel met steel once again, only this time did one break upon contact.

Berserker stumbled back as a powerful kick sent the Servant skidding. The blackened knight looked down at his sword to see it cleaved apart and shortening it to that of a dagger.

With Gae Buidhe gone with its owner, Assassin could feel the wound in his shoulder begin to mend ever so slowly. The Spartan grit his teeth in pain from the new wound given from the weapon now in his hand, feeling the tether of mana now connected to it and preventing it from leaving the World so long as it was in his hands.

The mad knight tossed aside the crude weapon, seeing it now no longer able to serve its purpose against this new change in threat. With that same roar, Berserker charged forth, mana welling up within as a new sword, pristine and refined despite its corruption, began to erupt from the shadows of the knight.

Assassin grimaced, unenthused by the reveal of Berserker's true Noble Phantasm. His arm was mended enough for him to finally grip his new weapon in both hands, if ever so weakly. The hole in his gut would further impede him, but not enough to outright steal his fighting ability.

So the two charged forth, Arondight thirsting to clash with the stolen Gae Dearg in Assassin's hand… before they disappeared from sight.

**-oOo-**

The bug-riddled Master pitched forward, coughing up blood and Crest Worms as he felt the tether bearing Arondight had been summoned forth. Command Spell from Matou and Executor alike spent and their opposing Servants appearing before their very eyes.

Spear clashed with sword, sparks akin to lightning shooting from the contact both weapons shared as their onslaught continued forth. For a moment, both knight and soldier alike appeared on equal footing as both their weapons pushed against the other… until Assassin took a step back.

While Kariya was unable to notice, the insects surrounding him seemingly having gone haywire from the mana upkeep of Berserker, Kirei could barely see his Servant struggling from the newfound strength the maddened Heroic Spirit seemed to possess through the frenzied storm of insects. Muscles pushed to their limits as the pure density of mana exuding from Berserker's form finally sent Assassin soaring back.

With mechanical precision, Assassin managed to catch himself in time, impaling the ground with the stolen spear in his hand and slowing his momentum until finally reorienting himself back to solid footing.

His body was strained and worn out beyond human comprehension, but still he continued to fight. The strength of this maddened dog seemed to have risen a rank, maybe even the rest of his entire Spirit Origin as well.

'_There's not point in hiding it anymore, Assassin. Use your Noble Phantasm,,'_ Kirei looked towards his Servant, still clutching the spear in his hands. How Assassin was able to keep Lancer's weapon manifested, the Executor had no idea, but he then felt the flow of mana begin to build up within his Servant.

The black form that enveloped his Servant began to brighten, glowing a dull shade of gray as Berserker charged towards his target, sensing the manifestation of a Noble Phantasm.

Blackened blade of the maddened knight was raised high above his head, swinging it down with all his might, perfected accuracy and strength befitting a true knight of legend. The blade's path was as sure as sunrise, like a tsunami crashing against the shores of a coastline.

Before the blade could make its mark, a single word was spoken from the Assassin of Kotomine.

Merely a whisper in the howling dark did such form truly bring about, the Spartan from a future age and an antithesis to the very definition of Heroic Spirit. A walking contradiction given flesh and steel.

And thus he spoke.

"_**MJOLNIR."**_

A flash of light blinded everyone in the vicinity while a sound similar to a gunshot rang out. Both Masters shielded their eyes from the flash until it finally dissipated shortly after.

What stood before the Executor was a taller being than what should've been Assassin. Clad in dull gray metal, bulky and heavy by the looks of it alone, and yet the pass connecting Master and Servant told Kirei that the Heroic Spirit had not only been given greater durability from the armor, but his strength and speed were raised as well.

Assassin felt his energy return, the power of his armor bestowing him his new parameters… at least for the time being. Too much mana had been consumed for the night, but this should be enough for now.

Berserker looked down at his newly empowered opponent. If he had been a sane man, Assassin would've guessed that the Servant was bearing a shocked look on his face.

He would've been shocked too if someone under his weight class caught his sword in mid-swing too. There was still pressure as both palms had managed to catch the blade in time, but the difference was quite noticeable for Assassin.

Having let go of Lancer's spear, the stolen Noble Phantasm now vanished from the World correcting the anomaly. Six didn't care at that point, Servants and Noble Phantasms were merely tools, and the genuine article that belonged to his legend would suffice well enough.

And now? The primal anger he bore behind that helmet of his was _very_ genuine.

Assassin released his grip on the blade, pushing the weapon with a hand as it came slamming down. The concrete shattered as the Servant of the dagger disappeared from sight in a flash of gray.

Kirei felt a gust of wind pass by as Assassin reappeared behind Berserker. Despite the risen parameters, the mad knight was able to keep up with Assassin as he spun around to face his opponent, swinging that black sword of his in the direction of his assailant.

A pair of silver blades suddenly unsheathed from the Spartan's hands, enhanced by Hyper Lethal Vector as mana poured into the weapons. Blocking with the new blades in his hands, the sword shattered them in an instant with only some resistance and continued its trajectory.

That was all Assassin needed, raising his arms to block the blow as he was met with a familiar dull pain. The Servant felt himself flying through the air before finally crashing against a nearby lamppost, bending from the pure force that Berserker struck him with.

Noble Six opened his eyes, a droning noise in his ear brought about a strange feeling as he opened his eyes, a flashing red bar in his HUD showed the words "_Warning_" before finally ceasing, the aggressive red bar then replaced by a soothing cyan blue as it finally filled back up. Assassin looked down at his body, surrounded by a crackling amber light that surrounded him.

He nearly forgot about the benefits of his armor's shielding.

Mana surged through him once again as he stood back up and faced the knight once more. Those same silver blades appeared once more as the Spartan dove back into the fight, the blades shattering to pieces with every blow, yet a new one reappeared before his eyes.

Assassin would later have to make a note of returning Kirei's Black Keys to him, another blade shattering and reappearing as the Servant poured more mana into the weapon. Those semi-solid blades barely able to manage their fortitude against actual steel reinforced by the legend of a Heroic Spirit, and yet they served their purpose for the Servant in an attempt to find an opening.

Another swing and the Spartan leapt back, finally spotting an opening in Berserker's defenses. With the Black Key in his hands, he threw the weapon at his opponent.

It wasn't until Assassin landed did he finally get a solid hit in, spearing the mad knight through the wrists as he swung down with that longsword of his in a two-handed strike, the Key impaled further and stopped just above Berserker's knee, immobilizing him for what could only be a second after the Spartan let go.

Assassin wasted no opportunity, breaking into a dead sprint with the last blade in his hand.

He just needed that last second of time, just once.

Come on! Assassin felt MJOLNIR finally begin to dissipate, reaching his limit of mana as he drew closer to his enemy.

The knight stared down at the weapon speared through three of his limbs before snapping the blade once more. An animalistic roar split the air as Berserker looked up, about to catch sight of the source of this voice before a lance of pain wracked through his body.

Before he could even have the chance to react, the last Key finally found a new target, buried into the opening between Berserker's breastplate and helmet, snugly fitted into his throat.

Blood spurted out as Assassin pitched forward, wrapping his arms around the knight and shifting his center of gravity, the both of them tossed to the ground.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA-" the maddened Servant screamed, a fist colliding with Berserker's helmet, then another, and another.

The black knight struck with a fist, hoping to toss the Spartan off as armored knuckles buried into his side, intent on getting enough distance to finish off Assassin with his sword. What happened instead was the Spartan gritting his teeth through the pain, pinning one arm with a foot while a single hand grasped the handle of Berserker's black sword, preventing the knight from truly grasping it.

"JUST-"

The armor began to fade away, as did Berserker's sword.

"-DIE-"

But Assassin kept punching.

'- ALREADY!"

It wasn't just Berserker that had finally gone mad.

Assassin continued his onslaught, his vision gone red, literally and figuratively as blood and anger blinded him. Even with his armor already gone, he still threw his punches until the only thing left was the concrete beneath his feet.

Berserker had since then left the world with one regret, to never have been judged by his King. And thus, Sir Lancelot was no more.

Kirei had watched the fight in all its glory, both Servants fighting between an arena on the orders of their Masters. On the opposite end was Kariya, his body still writhing from the pain of Berserker using his Noble Phantasm.

And in the center of it all was Assassin on his knees, arms hung weakly by his side as his breathing grew more and more haggard.

In only a short amount of time, his body had been pushed to its limits against two Servants. Assassin stared down at his hands, both knuckles bloody and literally almost worn down to the bones. His body practically in shock to even feel the wracking pain in his hands.

Before long, he finally stood up, pulling himself out of the railways and towards higher ground, almost stumbling until he reached Kirei.

"Lancer and… Berserker… eliminated," Assassin said between breaths, "Sir."

Kirei looked down at the two single Black Keys that his Servant had stolen, taking them in his hand and sheathed them someplace in his clothes in a flash. In the Executor's other arm was Rin Tohsaka who, by some miraculous feat created by a combination of both fortitude and exhaustion, was still fast asleep.

"Take the girl back to her mother and return to Tokiomi," Assassin advised, straightening himself back up, "I still have things to do in the city."

"You're quite low on mana," Kirei observed, "Not enough to remain fighting for the rest of the night."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" the Spartan demanded, his voice taking a bit of an edge to cause concern for the Executor, "There was a woman nearly dying in a warehouse before I was brought here with a Command seal, probably Archibald's wife."

Kotomine raised an eyebrow, "That would be a cause for concern if you managed to track Caster there with bait like that."

"And yet I still live."

"Indeed," the man shook his head, "The effort to return Rin will be less of a strain on your reserves. I-"

He looked back at the former master now on the opposite end of the station, "-will take care of some unfinished business. If the night is still young, I will retrieve the woman and bring her back to the church as well."

Assassin seemed to stare at him behind that mask, before nodding his head, "Thanks, Master."

Kirei only hummed to himself as he passed along the girl to his Servant, who now disappeared into the night. The mystery behind his Servant seemed to grow even further.

An Assassin that claimed to be a Spartan, yet called forth a suit of armor named after a weapon of Norse Myth? The Servant was a Frankenstein's Monster of legends, patchworks of borrowed names that only served to confuse the Executor even more.

But it was no matter, he would speak with Assassin after the night was through. In the meantime however, he had something else to take care of right now.

Pacing around the station, the priest found himself standing above the half-dead man known as Kariya Matou.

"Now… what to do with you…" a grin had plastered itself on Kirei's face.


	7. Chapter 7: Spider's Thread

It all started one fateful day.

Serial killers were often simple men with little want, and Ryuunosuke Uryuu was no exception. He usually went about his day like every other person, going to work as a simple freeter and coming around with more time on his hands than he knew what to do. He paid little mind to the lives of others around him and everyone around him returned the favor in turn.

He was an ambiguous blip on the face of the world with no one the wiser.

This was when his "free time" came into use.

His latest pet project was in an apartment. Having found a book at his old parents house on how to summon something like a spirit, naturally he assumed this was something akin to a demon, and the very thought made his skin crawl in glee.

Summoning a demon? This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he wouldn't waste a chance like this!

So his next targets had to be the tools for this project. Simply enough, his anonymity blended him into the world akin to a shadow: everyone had one and it would be abnormal not to, that's how he was treated, naturally like any other person.

This was an easy one, the father was currently away on a business trip in Tokyo, Shinjuku specifically. Two little girls and a mother all alone in their apartment. Getting in was one of the easy parts, Ryuunosuke passed off easily like anyone else and took advantage of that fact. Of course the next part was a tad more difficult, but the lock wasn't special and took as much time as all the others to get in.

He took off his shoes as soon as he entered. It was tradition to take off your shoes when you enter the house of another, and he couldn't break that tradition right now. His tool of choice was a scalpel, clean and a deep matte silver that seemed to merely glow in the moonlight without reflection.

The first was one of the little girls. This wasn't intentional as he found her sleepwalking through the hallways, passing by him as though he was a ghost. Her separation from the rest of her family made this easy, pulling out a nearby pan and getting to work with a stab of his knife, and then she'd sleep forevermore.

The next was the mother, sleeping soundly in her queen-sized mattress on the right side of the bed. This was out of habit, as her husband usually slept on the opposing side. She snored soundly, barely making a sound but still there anyways.

With a swift motion, he covered her mouth and plunged the blade into her throat, watching as her eyes opened at the pain before the light faded from them. The young serial killer tilted her head so that the blood would drip into the next pot with ease. Ryuunosuke nearly panicked for a moment as he watched the pot overflow, having to rush back into the kitchen and pick up another pan. He heard a sickening crunch as he had accidentally stepped on the first little girl's head, cringing in disgust as he now had brain matter all over his socks.

Gross.

He rushed back into the bedroom and replaced the pot as quickly and cleanly as he could. Watching as the blood continued to ooze ever so quickly before slowing down. This should be enough for the ritual, all he had to do now was-

"Mommy?" a soft voice brushed past the ears of Ryuunosuke Uryuu.

Oh! Right, he forgot about the other daughter, how could he forget?

He stood up and turned around to see a young girl, not even the age of 6 yet as he made his way over and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her into the living room as reached for the bundle of ropes he brought along with him.

Demons were probably hungry when they were summoned, they needed something to eat, right?

What resulted were two dead residents and a bound and scared little girl with her mouth covered in duct tape. The shape of a demonic circle taking root as Ryuunosuke tossed his socks towards the side of the room and continued to trace along the ground.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill… fill? Hmmm, destroy each when filled," Ryuunosuke traced the geometric symbols and runes along the circle, his foot was soaked in blood but it didn't matter at that point, "What the hell kinda chant is this? What am I supposed to be filling? I- hey kid, can you stop screaming for a second? I'm trying to think."

The little girl's muffled screams continued to also muffle Ryuunosuke's thoughts. He wasn't usually irritated by this kind of stuff but the incantation seemed more important.

"Hey hey, listen," he patted the little girl on the head, "If you don't stop screaming, I'm going to have to cut out your tongue or something, okay? ...Okay you're quiet now, good."

Unbeknownst to the serial killer's while his back was turned and ranting to the child about his fascination over the idea of demons, the summoning circle began to light up. A gust of wind and a flash of light threw him to the side and blinded him for only a couple seconds before the living room went still.

Ryuunosuke shot to his feet as a new figure was now present in the room, completely unknowing of the singeing of Command Seals into his right hand.

He was a young man in a fancy suit, leaning on a peculiar looking cane before spinning around with a flourish. Bright blue eyes gleaming with intelligence and silvery hair that glowed in the moonlight.

"Caster clas- wait," a voice emitted from mouth, formal yet teetering with a sense of relaxation before realizing the situation he was in, "Are you the one who summoned me? Tell me your name."

"Well uh… yeah!" the young man exclaimed, chuckling awkwardly at the situation, not having witnessed his summoning and all would make for a terrible impression, "Name's Uryuu Ryuunosuke. Are you a demon?"

The man looked around, taking in the environment before his eyes fell on the little girl gagged and bound on the floor, "You did this?"

The killer's unanswered question resulted in some annoyance but he was still happy regardless to have summoned something, "Yep, there's a dead kid in the kitchen and her mom's in the bedroom, I used their blood to summon you. Cool, right?"

"And you're a serial killer?"

Ryuunosuke nodded, proceeding to explain how he targeted mainly women and children because they were easy targets and such. The man then sighed and put on his glasses, looking through the area with care. The man tilted his head and a loud pop emitted itself before looking down at the younger boy before him, "Sloppy."

"E-excuse me?"

"Sloppy!" he exclaimed, "Short, messy, and imprecise. I bet you even got your fingerprints all over the place, didn't you?"

The serial killer didn't exactly know how to process this before the supposed demon was now… lecturing him? What the hell was even happening at this point?

"I don't think I get what your saying, Mr. Demon," Ryuunosuke watched as the man picked up a washcloth and tossed it to him.

"Clean it up."

"W-what?"

"Your fingerprints, everything you think and know you touched, wipe it all off. Any hairs that fell from your head, pick those up as well, any sort of evidence that would even imply your identity will be removed. Got it?"

Disappointed by the results of what he summoned, Ryuunosuke did it anyway.

Caster watched as the young man, his master he knew at this point, got to work. It was a grueling and humiliating task for anyone else, but he'd consider it a learning experience for this budding young criminal.

He was a complex man, a spider in human skin with all the grace and tact of a butterfly. Upon his own summoning at the call of the Holy Grail, his plan was formulating from the very start.

"Alrighty, done mister. What now?" his Master reappeared with his sleeves rolled back and the cloth now stained with blood.

Already he was given a promising, if somewhat naively inexperienced, Master that was capable of doing the dirty work for him. He wasn't fond of serial killers, hell he could barely even reason with the Ripper during his own life before he- er, she? They? Whatever, that thing was an enigma that only his own rival seemed to solve. Nevertheless, killers like his Master… Ryuunosuke… were simpler creatures driven by a kind of passion.

"Kill the kid," he ordered, much to the loudened cries of the child nearby, "Tell me, Ryuunosuke, what drives you to do these kinds of things?"

Ryuunosuke looked up as the girl was now bleeding from her carotid artery, "Oh well, all the deaths you see in the movies and read in the books really don't seem… realistic? I'm just interested in seeing it and what happens afterwards, and sometimes tossing in some bits of creativity and coming up with new ways to kill."

It was a simple motivation driven purely by fascination and desire. Caster smiled, he could understand that perfectly.

"What if I can teach you to do it better?" Ryuunosuke's eyes seemed to gleam now, "Interested, eh?"

He watched as the boy nodded excitedly like some over enthusiastic puppy. In its own way, it was kinda adorable, but now was not the time for games.

The sound of a knob turning caught his ear, quickly turning to see that a Japanese man, his body rippled with layers upon layers of muscle, had entered the room, "What in the- who-"

_Thunk!_

The man slumped over, light quickly fading from his eyes as he couldn't get his last words out. A kitchen knife now embedded in his forehead.

"What was that?" Ryuunosuke watched as his Servant dragged the body back into the room, "Who's this guy?"

"That-" the Servant pointed down, then pointed back at the red-headed boy, "-Is the dear husband and father of this family. As I said, I'm willing to teach you how to do better. If you took the time to listen a little more carefully or maybe even inspect the room a little bit better-"

He picked up a nearby slip of paper and handed it to Ryuunosuke, now reading through the paper. It was the start and end dates of an appointment, readjusted at the last moment due to complications, and he was unfortunate enough to have been at the right time he'd be back from Shinjuku.

"-You wouldn't have had to rely on someone like me to get away," the Servant smiled, "With even the slightest bit of planning and applying any necessary precaution, there would be much less risk and a higher rate of success."

Ryuunosuke scratched his head for a moment before putting away the scalpel into his pocket, angled with the edge away, "So you're saying I need to plan better."

"Correct."

"And you can help me do that?"

"Also correct," Caster grinned before spinning on his heels, "I will teach you that good things come to those who wait. People like you and myself, we love to see the storm after the calm has passed, especially when we're the cause of it all."

"And what about the bodies?"

"What about them?" the British man hummed to himself, "You killed them and removed any traces of yourself. You're a serial killer who wants these to be seen, what more do you need to do? Come now, I wish to show you something."

Ryuunosuke found this man confusing but intriguing nonetheless. Enticed by the offers of improvement and excitement, he followed closely alongside the old man, waiting to see what would happen next.

* * *

"Wow…!" the redheaded serial killer seemed to gasp in awe.

The spectacle from the docks was a sight to see even for the young man standing beside Caster atop a building not too far away, a pair of binoculars in hand as he peered through the instrument at the battle coming from the docks.

The Servant only had to sit back and watch, an incantation provided by his Noble Phantasm shielding his Master and his own presence. The swordswoman in blue and the spearman in green proceeded with their duel, even after the injuries sustained did they keep fighting.

Then one appeared, then another, and another right after.

King of Knights, King of Conquerors, Knight of Fianna, a hero of gargantuan stature and strength, and a maddened black knight all gathered within one place. Aside from himself, there was one Servant that was missing.

Of course one of the most pragmatic and efficient in Master-slaying wouldn't show up. As far as the Caster-class Servant knew, the results of a death was all that mattered for an Assassin. No need for honor or chivalry.

"Holy-!" Ryuunosuke was practically squealing in delight from the new fight taking place, both Berserker and Archer had engaged one another already in combat. The docks quickly reduced to rubble as the fight came and went in less than a minute, "That's awesome! That's not just special effects or anything, the real freaking deal?!"

The Servant of magecraft let out a low baritone chuckle as he turned to his Master, a devilish smile plastered upon his own face as well, "That, my boy, is only a byproduct of the Holy Grail War. Each of those men and women upon that battlefield are like myself, Servants to take place in this whole magic ritual."

The redhead tilted his head as he turned away, scratching his head with broad confusion, "Honestly Mister? I didn't even know magic was real and all until I met you. So what's this whole thing about anyway?"

And so the Servant gave the young man a crash course on not only the Grail itself, but the foundations of magecraft due to his own summoning under the Caster container. Magic circuits that the boy had now awakened that supplied the Servant with mana and anchored him to the world, the Grail's ability to grant a wish to the survivors of the war, and the Command seals emblazoned upon his hand.

Of course, he only neglected to mention their ability to force obedience upon a Servant with proper application.

Before long, the Servants departed from the docks, leaving all but the Masters, sans Rider's, alone. It would've been easy even for Caster to appear before them and make quick work of their corpses before disappearing. Though there was the issue of it being too early into the war, their Command Seals still fresh on their hands…

And there was that Saber who refused to leave that woman's side.

Interesting.

Waving his hand, a tome appeared within. Caster scrolled through the pages until he came upon a certain chapter for a certain ritual.

Spellcasting was never his strongest suit, but the mana provided and the Noble Phantasm he possessed gave him an advantage that, while unorthodox, suited his method of attack quite well.

"Come on, boy," Caster headed for the door leading down the stairwell, "We have more planning to do."

Ryuunosuke let out a slight huff before eventually following along.

"Worry not, as I said," Caster repeated that mantra, "Good things come to those who wait. And there will be quite some waiting for the both of us."

Wrapping an arm around the young boy, he drew himself close.

"What I have in store will make all those deaths of yours pale in comparison," Caster began to disappear into his spirit form, spreading his arms out and cackling, "A magnum opus the likes of which the world has never seen before… ha hahahahaaa…"

'_Find somebody, anybody, and make short work of them. Take their life and I shall do the rest,'_ his voice whispered into Ryuunosuke's mind, causing him to let out a short laugh in glee, the blade in his pocket almost heavy with murderous intent.

* * *

Caster closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he focused. Seconds passed before he opened his eyes, finding himself within a library.

Territory Creation was one attribute of many that a Servant of his caliber possessed. Establishing a field that would serve to his advantage that only a fool would dare to trespass upon if they believed they would hold an advantage on another's land.

But this Caster was different, _he_ was different.

The Servant found himself wandering through that endless maze, a labyrinthian recursion of tomes. Many of which bore blank, wordless pages with no use to their own. But the existence of his Noble Phantasm would pull his mind to a certain book whenever the urge would call for it.

And so he found himself within a certain section of his territory, the wandering criminal Servant who was not suited for owning a stationary bounded field, but a mobile fortress that lay within his own mind. This would be a disadvantage for a Caster that has to deal with their problems directly.

But for him? This was no such problem.

Caster opened his eyes once more, the tugging sensation from his mind pulling him back forth into reality as he stood before an operation table, a collection of magecraft texts and a surgical scalpel in hand.

Upon the table was a body once as blank as a mannequin and now unique as the body that housed the original soul. The ritual, or rather the operation he conducted, had taken all but an hour to prepare, and several more to conduct. The Doll-crafting of the Ainsworth family, not even dissolved into the annals of history and instead left behind without even a footnote to their own name, had been absorbed into Caster's library.

The process was imperfect, Caster shook his head, preferring not to let his wish for such take hold. Of course it wouldn't be perfect, he was never a true practitioner in this art and there would be such room for error, but the purpose of this doll would serve good enough.

Quantity was a quality in its own right from a certain point of view.

He left the makeshift surgical room he had fashioned for himself in haste, leaving the orders for his puppet to scout after the Saber Servant.

Caster shook his head, grinning to himself like a madman,_ 'Letting the lives of others fall in exchange for my own, how very me of me.'_

Minutes passed as sat upon a nearby chair, feet propped up on a table as breathed through a smoking pipe that he had procured through Item Construction, contemplating to himself as his Master went to work on Fuyuki's citizens.

Ten minutes passed by as Caster began his plan. The Doll had since awoken, stripped of their identity, placed in an identical body and only bearing their seemingly normal, if a tad uncanny, appearance and obeyed such orders, fueled by an inward compass that naturally detected the strong presence of mana.

Being the Saber class, of course, the process would be an easy feat.

The criminal spellcaster possessed no inherent magic circuits in life, though his Spiritual core and the books he possessed carried their own reservoirs of mana that substituted for him. Without them, he would bear no way to ever be called a Caster within the war, it was both his greatest gift and his curse.

Nevertheless, having to fashion a link between the Doll and himself in order to see and hear what it saw was no difficult task, merely a turn of a page and an offering of his own mana, having to nip at the side of a finger with a droplet of blood trailing down and he was set.

He didn't expect it to last very long, merely suffusing enough mana to make it stronger than most men and letting it loose into the world with any expected results.

Ten minutes more and the man had been thoroughly surprised by the development that had proceeded, the link between created and creator thoroughly severed by a thrown dagger to the cranium.

"Assassin…" the Servant muttered to himself with a wicked grin. He took no offense to the man's disregard of him, he knew it was a baiting tactic anyway. Caster was instead intrigued by his methods, especially his own, or rather his Master's, interest in Saber as well.

Alarm bells seemed to fire off in his head as he continued his planning. The sudden reveal of the unseen Servant now lighting a fire in his heart as a dopamine rush had caused him to smile, a cruel and wicked smile even more malicious than the rest.

This was no true rival of his, he doubted that Assassin would ever meet the level of such a man… but the game was certainly afoot.

And Caster only needed another step in his plans: information… and allies.

* * *

Desperate men were the easiest to manipulate, this was simple fact for the Servant. Offer the opportunity that man had been searching for and they'll eat it up like bait for a fish. The unbroken were those that had nothing to lose.

And for those in a Grail War, everyone had something to lose.

Their wish, their pride and status, their livelihoods… even their loved ones.

Caster turned to the sleeping man lying on the sofa near the far corner of the room. The Servant tilted his head at him, seeing the two Command seals emblazoned upon his hand… and he was pretty sure that his mad knight was itching to kill him at any possible moment were it not for the order otherwise.

Kariya Matou was an important piece for his game, being a great distraction in order for him to grab information from Emiya. It was the only thing he had to his name so far, but Caster had many more plans for the man before he moves on.

Afterwards? He'll probably send him to kill Saber or something. Even without her Noble Phantasm, the Saber class was a formidable foe for every other Servant within the war, they were an invaluable asset that the Master would go to every length to protect, while any foe would attempt to exploit or try to kill such a Servant through whatever means desired.

Of course, he was no exception, but Caster preferred to whittle away his opponent slowly over time before finally having the chance to strike. However, there existed two other Servants that would be a detriment for him.

The first was Lancer, the wound that was inflicted on the woman was a crippling blow, but not enough to put her out of commission. However, so long as he still remained, her wound would also.

Caster frowned at the next part of his plans… either have Berserker kill Lancer now but bring Saber to full strength, or leave Lancer alive and allow him to run free with every opportunity to dampen his plans whenever possible.

This was… troublesome. The man stood up from his seat, taking a step back from his plans for the moment. He turned his attention to the window outside, the glass pane from the hotel facing out into the brightly lit city of Fuyuki.

Ryuunosuke had been an invaluable boon to the Servant of magecraft, the boy would always provide fresh materials for him to use. Without too much trouble, Caster would be able to teach the boy his methods of doing such magecraft to help achieve his goals in the long run. Both Doll from the dead Ainsworth family and Golem from the dwindling Frain family alike were of massive use to him, however… this only led to the second Servant that was of issue-

Assassin.

Caster turned back to his notes, looking down at the papers he had written down concerning Assassin. Mr. Emiya had no acknowledgements of such, so he was forced to draw his own conclusions. And while his failure to eliminate his Master was without success, there came several new developments that came about.

The man smiled, Assassin had been so close to catching him, and once again did he elude such an enigmatic variable within his plans. Three bullets from his rifle did nothing to the Servant, but enough for the much weaker Caster to copy down the last of Emiya's notes before his escape.

Of course, Caster wouldn't let his new fascination with Assassin hinder his work. He was still a foe that had proved difficult to remove altogether, but it did keep the Servant on his toes as he worked.

The other Servants were of no concern for him. Saber would have to be saved for later, while the concerns between Rider and Archer would be left to themselves.

However… Caster picked up the paper on Archer, reading through the notes that concerned his identity. If his identity was truly what he thought it was, and if his hypothesis concerning _That_ were correct, then…

"Hmm," the Servant hummed to himself, pulling forth another book from his Noble Phantasm and feeling the weight in his hands. The tome was one of the oldest inscriptions in his library, a near impossible object he had acquired in this Noble Phantasm of his, the power it bore was useless in a straight fight, and even more worthless for creating his spiderweb. But the mana the book possessed was… exceptional.

It was a heavy calculation that would spell his doom if he didn't act appropriately, so Caster decided to save it for later.

In the meantime however, all Caster could do was plan while his Master continued his work. He let Kariya continue sleeping for now, he had big plans for the makeshift magus later.

* * *

"You…-"

Caster revealed himself before the Executor, raising his arms in peace as he strode closer. He made no efforts to attack the man nor did he have need to. The charlatan act would work for a fool like Kariya, but this was strictly business for the magus Servant.

"Oh do be calm, Master of Assassin. I only wish to talk," Caster shook his head as he pulled up a chair.

The Priest stared at him for a long while, the Command Seal on his arm finally faded though was nevertheless cautious. His glare seemed to pierce through the Servant, knowing the type of man he was.

"Talk."

"You're looking for something, aren't you?" the very words seemed to freeze Kirei in his tracks much like how he did Assassin. It left a good impression for the Servant, so he knew leverage was found, "You just don't know, don't you? Believing that they lie in the form of one…"

He withdrew a sheet of paper from his coat, "-Kiritsugu Emiya."

"How do you know this?" he seemed awfully focused on the parchment in hand.

"I've done my research, Kirei Kotomine, even going so far as to… borrow some readily available records from the previous Grail Wars," he raised a hand before Kirei could speak, "Worry not, your father is unharmed, I did nothing to the man. However, I am aware of your secret little alliance with Tohsaka."

The Executor made no effort to move afterwards, merely listening to what he thought was the rambling of some mad Servant.

"I'm willing to offer a parlay if you simply let me," Caster offered, "I seek the Grail and you seek Emiya, provide me the advantage for one and I shall deliver for you as well."

"You're asking me to betray Tokiomi?"

"I see no efforts of you stopping me right now," Caster shrugged, "If not to kill Tokiomi, then I can offer an alternative solution that would benefit you greatly just as much as it would me."

Silence from the man… until, "I'm listening…"

Caster placed a set of folders onto a desk and slid them towards Kirei, "Information that Emiya had gathered from the rest of the Masters-"

He withdrew another folder, this one much thicker than the others, "-And this being all that I had compiled on Emiya compared to the rest. I've managed to track him down throughout Fuyuki and have since been able to pinpoint a location for you to see him for yourself. Simply take the path to that location and I'm sure you'll be able to find him."

Kirei seemed to track the folder by his eyes alone as the magus set the folder down, "I would consider myself a smart man on several different subjects, the compilation of such a man was difficult to find for myself, but I managed it with some… mimicry from another when I was alive."

"I see…"

Caster studied the expression of the Executor, he was a lost and wandering man. As empty as he was, he was still desperately searching for something. The strewn about files regarding Kirei was some cause for concern from Caster's point of view, wondering if there was any concern from the opposite end of the spectrum.

Once again, it was merely a shot in the dark that he had managed to find and exploit with success. He was no believer in luck, but the probability of success that would play out in his favor. Mathematics was always his strongest suit, and his deduction had hit the mark dead on.

"You're an honest man, as lost as you are," Caster replied, holding out the folder, "And the contents within are true and honest from an unbiased standpoint. I personally don't care for this petty Magus Killer, but I would be willing to offer this information in exchange for a favor of yours."

Kirei Kotomine knew that this man was a conniving trickster, a temptor with long and malicious plans to get what he wants. Finding the deception of others' words was something that he had a natural affinity for, having attended the training of an Executor to snuff out deceivers and lies… and yet he sensed no lies from this man.

"Name your price."

It was quick and fast, the charisma of wickedness had pulled in Kirei's hollow heart with but a single meeting, more than any could ever do. But Caster couldn't take all the blame for himself, that stubborn Assassin of his was a good sort if he kept getting in the way of the Executor's self-interest.

"Berserker and Lancer have been a considerable nuisance," Caster shook his head, "Send your Assassin or whatever you'd prefer and remove them for me whenever you feel is best. Take whatever opportunity is available, I personally couldn't care less for their Masters either, but do with them what you will, ta~"

With that, Caster disappeared, his business concluded.

Short, simple, and easy.

The next step would be a more… difficult process. He only needed to make sure to convince the old man and sway him to his side, that was the easy part. What was tougher was what came after.

Ryuunosuke would have to put his skills against a magus to the test.

Sure of himself as he often was, Caster's doubts worried him this time. The time and precision of this step would have to be perfect… and would unfortunately have to hinge on a rather unhinged individual and his maddened Servant.

This can only go so well.

* * *

"_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR-**_"

Caster watched from a fair distance as Berserker and Lancer fought on. The field of their battle being that abandoned warehouse someplace away. It seemed like a well enough hideout for a failed magus and his wife to hunker down until Lancer inevitably failed.

Lancer fought with that same remarkable speed, fairing that skill over power in order to find a weakness in his opponent's armor. Gae Dearg being the only thing disallowing Berserker's improvised weapon Noble Phantasm, while Gae Buidhe didn't have the same reach as the former but nevertheless attempted to snake it's way around the armor in order to find a killing blow.

It was too bad for the Servant that the mad knight was capable of keeping up.

"Damn it, damn it all!" Lancer backstepped from another attack, the ground where he once stood crumbled away as he landed with perfect grace, contrasting effectively with the angered grimace on his face, "Why would you be summoned under the class of Berserker, Sir Lancelot!?"

Ah, so the knight was Lancelot? Fascinating.

Berserker gave no verbal response, but the intensifying blows from the knight seemed to be in response to the Fianna Knight's question.

"Perhaps you simply hated your king so much?" another roar as he parried another swing aimed for his face, "Or rather you feared the repercussions of deflowering Saber's wife? Whatever it may be, o' Knight of the Round Table, the ever-perfect yet deeply sinned Sir Lancelot, allow me to absolve you of your sins."

Their battle had been fought for a good few minutes. It was no surprise that the Lancer-class, one of the three Knight Servants, was able to keep up with the madman. His skill was renowned by many in his home country, even the legend of King Arthur having recognized his power by sight and sensation alone.

There was no doubt he would win, his Noble Phantasms were inevitable counters to Lancelot's own abilities.

_Crunch!_

And yet…

Lancer froze, backing away from another attack as his own hands shook, nearly dropping his spears as he turned around.

Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, even as crippled as he was, had been a witness of the fight as well. His last Command Spell, despite not having been used, disappeared from the world as blood pooled from his, onto the wheels of his chair before reaching the ground, his choked cries heard fell only upon few ears.

Behind him stood a man Lancer had never seen before, a redheaded man in violet apparel and pale tanned shoes, holding a bloody scalpel in his hand as it had been dragged along the older man's throat.

Without even a word to either his wife or Servant, Lord El-Melloi had passed away from the world without either fanfare or mourning, merely another victim of circumstance.

Lancer fell to the ground with a dull thump, blood sprayed from his back as he had left himself open to attack, the cruel machete-like slab of metal in Berserker's hands had left a running gash that'd prove fatal.

Even then, he still felt the pull of mana from his Master's wife, Sola-Ui was still alive, but the Servant knew not of her own condition. He could only shudder at the thought that this man was now putting her through such torment.

He failed once again, first his King and now his Masters. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne felt his body quickly beginning to fade out as the sound of buzzing caught his ears.

'_What… what was that?'_ he thought to himself as the buzzing grew louder. Before he even had a chance to meet his final demise, a wriggling sensation found itself at the base of his spine, burrowing deep and latching itself onto him.

He didn't even get the chance to scream as pain flooded his senses, his limbs moving without his consent as he stood back up.

From a distance, Caster disappeared, retrieving his Master from the battlefield and departing towards a safer location.

He'd have to thank Zouken later for his work. Now all he had to do was wait for Assassin to take the bait and show up.

Next he'd have to teach Ryuunosuke how to hypnotize a few poor men and women to work on his behalf. Where Caster couldn't have his Dolls and Golems roaming about, he'd have to rely on cheaper labor for his work.

If he remembered correctly, there was a yakuza group that was prevalent in this city. What was the name again?

Ah right, Fujimura…

* * *

It was all going so well, everything was finally in place.

There was only one more component left. The final white-haired piece of the puzzle that would bring the Holy Grail War to its very knees.

Caster stood atop the tallest building in Fuyuki, overlooking the city from below. Within a matter of days, the man had managed to recreate what he had managed to build throughout the world during the time he was alive. Smaller in size, his network of men and women throughout the city had finally been completed.

Assassin had taken the guise of a common man and interacted with Saber and her companion while the two were away. Every opportunity to kill them had not been taken… this disappointed the Caster.

He had thought this man to finally become an equal to his old foe, and just like the latter, he too had become attached even if he didn't know it yet. He had a weakness, one that Caster could easily exploit if he twisted the blade right.

What a shame. Nevertheless, Caster's plan was almost drawing to a close. Any unnecessary variables would be wiped off the face of this city by his command.

He watched as Assassin had seamlessly cut down Lancer and Berserker with only minor trouble. He watched as Kirei had mended Kariya Matou of his own wounds and returned him to Zouken's manor. He watched as Assassin continued his march to return the daughter of Tohsaka to the safety of her relatives, even as wounded as he was.

This point in the war and only five Servants remained, this would simply not do.

And even now, three Servants had been gathered together holding a paltry feast over their right to the Grail. Heroes were often fools, and it was Caster's specialty to bring down the reality of Man to them.

Archer was impossible to face on his own, so he would have to resort to other measures. He can only hope that brief entanglement with the priest would be enough temptation for a single meeting with the Magus Killer. If they killed each other in the process, then all the more better for him.

In a single night, all would fall before this lone Servant.

Caster stood up at the edge of the building, a single sheet of worn and bloody paper in his hand. Every creature touched upon by Caster had been bound by the laws of this text, all but his Master of course.

It only went by one name, the writings thought to be made by a fearsome and unholy creature that had been feared by the country of his birth. The fear of the unknown pulled forth the idea of the supernatural and manifested its power into the object he held in his hands.

The pull of mana drew forth from the Servant into the sheet, the power within the paper itself flaring to life as the Caster finally spoke, invoking the name of his Noble Phantasm and ready to unleash the very essence of oblivion upon the city.

"_Catastrophe Crime:-,"_ Caster grinned, the drain of mana quickly sapping his energy but he still held on, now was the object of his choosing, the writings of Jack the Ripper, _"From Hell." _

The paper in his hands burnt away to ash, the power of invoking the equivalent of a Conceptual Broken Phantasm left the Caster feeling faint. He took to spirit form and met back with his Master, descending back to safety.

That night, all Hell broke loose on the city of Fuyuki.


	8. Chapter 8: Dine in Hell

"Oh, are you both just going to start this party without me?" Archer made his way into the courtyard, materializing out of thin air as he approached the two kings seated apart from one another, "If I had known there was a banquet going on, I would've brought a meal for a proper feast."

His bow was slung over his shoulder, but both Servants present knew he meant no harm. At least for the time being.

Irisviel blinked in surprise by Archer's sudden appearance, not having heard much from him in quite a while. On the other hand, Rider's master seemed to back away in fear from having witnessed such a Servant's power, especially against a foe as vicious as Berserker.

Rider hummed to himself, pulling forth another fill of wine from the barrel and drinking. He turned to Saber before looking back at the Archer approaching them with a quizzical look, "This is a banquet between kings, Archer, I wasn't sure whether or not you wanted to come."

Saber shook her head at his words, not sure whether to laugh or scoff at the red-haired brute's words. He himself barged into their quarters, ruined as it may be, right as they return from the city and had the audacity to request such a thing.

And he was unsure whether to invite Archer?

Saber was surprised she and Irisviel even agreed to this, but the opposing King seemed to be in no mood for battle. Truth be told, neither was she.

So they sat in silence, drinking from the barrel of wine the giant had brought with him, waiting for the other to speak up on the subject matters that the man wished to discuss.

"You wound me, King of Conquerors," Archer continued his approach and halting before his chosen rival, kneeling down and seating himself between the two kings, legs crossed while his hands fell in his lap, "You seem to forget that I have familiarized myself with others who wished to call themselves kings, especially an old foolish friend of mine. Besides-"

Rider held out the empty cup to the Archer in mid-speech, who grabbed it in his massive tanned hand.

"-This argument between kings is irrelevant anyway, our wish for the Grail should be all that matters," he took the empty cup from the man's hands, scooping out the dark red liquor and bringing to his lips, swigging it back and letting out a sigh, "Nevertheless, I wish to apologize for coming alone, my Master continues to be quite a coward, sequestering himself away in that manor of his."

His gaze turned to Waver as he drank once again before turning back to his Servant, "I'll admit, Rider, your Master seems to fare better than my own… you'll make a good retainer of him yet."

Iskandar only chuckled at the thought, ignoring the diminutive boy's distraught look, "You flatter me, Archer… but I'm afraid that'll get you nowhere."

Archer hummed at his answer. Smacking his lips, the Servant was satisfied with the aftertaste of the wine provided and tossed the cup to Saber, who caught it immediately. The Saber-class Servant thought back on the words of the lion-maned giant, looking back at him with a fierce determination in her eyes, "Then what do you wish for, Archer?"

The Servant of the Bow tilted his head, his eyes boring into the opposing Knight class as he shrugged his shoulders, "I would say, but what would that accomplish? If anything, your curiosity to know my wish has me piqued on what yours is, o' King of Knights."

Saber grimaced at the Archer, on the verge of retaliating with a few scathing words of her own before Rider coughed slightly. Both Servants turned their attention to the man.

"I'd like to state mine first, if only to… break the ice, I believe the saying goes," the King of Conquerors spoke. He looked between them, seeing that he now had their attention, "My wish… is to be reborn once more."

He spoke it with conviction, the fire in his eyes burning brighter than any flame of conquest ever burned before.

And that fire was directed at Archer.

Saber wore an unreadable expression upon her face, "If I may interject, Rider, I was under the impression that a man like yourself would simply wish for world conquest."

The man barked a contemptuous laugh while his Master only appeared ever more uneased from Saber's ever growing scowl, "How naive of you, King of Knights. You should know the difference between a goal and a wish."

Her eye twitched at his presumptuous tone, she opened her mouth to retort such an insult-

"Your goal is to conquer… and your wish is simply the means to attain that goal. Hah, you've failed to disappoint me yet again, Rider, not wishing for such an easy way to victory," but alas, it appeared that Archer was a faster foe in both power and words, nodding at the larger man with what appeared to be an air of respect.

Rider beat a fist to his chest, resounding off like a thunderclap, "And why would I? The world is a beautiful garden ripe for the picking, there'd be no reason not to take it for myself and taste the fruits that lie within. A life fully lived in flesh and blood to explore the wonders that this era has to offer… that is my wish."

"That… is not the way anyone should act," a voice responded, both men turned to the source of that voice, seeing that it was the girl that sat before them, looking down at her own cup with a thinly veiled look of scorn upon her face, "And even less is the conduct of he who calls himself a Heroic Spirit that has been summoned into this war. I never would have expected more from you, King of Conquerors."

"And you would know to explain the merits of a king and hero?" Archer rested his chin on a single fist, eyes gleaming curiously at the little girl's proclamation towards the both of them. He had already said that debating over kingship was pointless, but now her fiery response had his attention.

Iskandar drank from his mug, concerned but just as curious as to what Saber wished to say.

"A hero acts with the honor and nobility that one righteously gives and returns, even through such struggles," she spoke, the fire in her eyes gleaming just as brightly as Iskandar did, "The path of a hero is a path walked alone, simultaneously desecrated and formed by the lives of those that dared to fight alongside us and perished in the aftermath."

It was a simple response, one that both hero and king pondered.

"You're correct, for the most part," Archer hummed to himself, sliding his mug aside as he straightened himself back up, earning no response from Iskandar, who merely listened, "But you fail to understand the meaning behind such heroism."

Saber almost faltered as those eyes stared back at her, like two cut slabs of marble that held no room for error in the marvel that was perfection.

"A hero is not simply a hero because the people deem them to be just by happenstance," Archer's low voice sounded strange under the context of lecture, but he spoke from experience nevertheless, "A hero is the representation of human aspect, a symbol for others to fall back on when all hope is lost."

He then turned to the middling in height, directing his voice to Iskandar.

"Rider, you were known as Alexander the Great to many who have heard of your exploits. A peerless warrior and king who conquered the land from the Balkans to Persia to India," Rider nodded at her listing of his deeds throughout life. He wouldn't deny these claims, they were simply fact, "To your men, they saw you as the crystallization of the conquering spirit, your army knew no fear with every victory you claimed before your own demise. You were even worth the respect of the Persian king and your closest rival, the Persian King Darius, if I remember correctly."

Rider crossed his arms and closed his eyes, nodding his head as a slight grin appeared on his face. He was thankful for the praise received from the hero.

"And you were known as King Arthur," Archer turned to the shortest, who almost winced at the blatant proclamation of her identity, "The King of Britain and the perfected idol of nobility. The Round Table and your rule were the symbols of your heroism, despite your own fall as well."

"Being a hero is like being a king," Archer continued, holding both hands out like they were scales, "It is a double-edged sword, whether I speak from my own experience or on behalf of others I served alongside. You inspire others to fight and die on your behalf and often do you fight for them as well."

Saber shook her head, how could man who dared not to sit upon a throne know the importance of both aspects? "A king fights for her people and lives to serve her country. The path of kingship is to stand alone and deliver both justice and salvation to the people that they rule over without impartiality."

"I disagree, Saber," Rider's gaze cut sharper than any steel that had once pierced Artoria's flesh, yet she still held firm against his own judgement, "A kingdom without a king would surely fall. It would be the other way around, the people live to serve their king. They would love and be loved by their ruler in order to perform such a sacrifice for the sake of his rule."

"That is the rule of a tyrant, Rider!" a flash of emotion showed itself on Saber's face, unbridled rage at the man's way of thinking, "To live truly as a king, such feelings should be cast aside. How else would punishment be delivered upon wrongdoers if all you ever do is proclaim your love to each and every one of your people?"

The man directed his gaze at her, but even then it felt as though he seeing through her rather than at her directly, "I will admit, Saber, the rule of a king is to be seen as a tyrant, and thus a hero. To deliver your people without ever knowing them is merely an empty rule, you'd be no more hollow than a mere flower vase."

"To be a king is to no longer simply be human," she ignored his base insults and responded justly.

"Indeed," Archer replied, turning his gaze to Saber, "It is to simply stop being human, but whether to be more or less is up to the king themselves."

He stretched an arm out to Iskandar, "You live, laugh, and shout more than any more than your fellow man, loving them as though they were your own sons. Rider was known for his conquest more so than his kingship. His humanity was what made him _him_. But as for you-"

The other arm found itself before Saber.

"You truly were a hero and a king that delivered your people, but you tread a thorny path that no one would walk alongside," Saber's gaze faltered, eyes flickering between the two as Archer continued to dissect her views with the skill of a trained surgeon, "In a way, we are alike. The people saw us, but never truly knew us… the difference being that you made no effort to. How many your knights did you truly know, aside from their affections towards you?"

For once, the girl-king found herself unable to speak, barely able to get a single word out.

"I…"

"_The King knows not the hearts of others…" _

The words of Sir Tristan never meant more to her until now. She knew not the meaning of those words when they were uttered… but she realized that they had left an impression of how her men saw her.

They idolized the King like she was God Himself. Why try to figure out the intentions of God if you simply knew them to be good and righteous?

Gawain, Gareth, Tristan, Agravain, Percival, Bedivere.

Lancelot and… Mordred.

Names and faces flashed through her mind. In her lap, her hands balled into fists until they nearly bled from the pain.

She remembered herself upon that field of battle. Son and estranged father dueled upon that mountain of bodies until one finally remained, both impaled by their blades yet only one still stood. There, Artoria Pendragon was offered a chance at redemption… another that one of her knights had made off with that finally gave her the opportunity to set things right.

The Holy Grail…

'_Galahad…'_

Finally she spoke, her voice a faint rasp of what it once was, the guilt on her face told him the answer he needed, "And what about you, Archer?"

"Perhaps I spoke too little of myself," the giant hummed to himself, stroking his bare chin thoughtfully as he tasted for an answer from the cup in hand, "I once knew a man who desired kingship. He was a man who held similar ideals to your own, Saber, but the task to ascend the throne was too much for him alone, so he enlisted the help of others, with myself being one the men that journeyed alongside him."

Saber and Rider listened, one concerned with knowing his intentions and the other being familiar with the story being told.

"He sought for peace and prosperity, thinking on that dream of the future to attain his rule and become king. His wish became his sole obsession," he craned his neck towards the two of them, "But you both know that those two things are impossible together, correct?"

For once, both Kings agreed on that. Saber's wish for the peace of her people and Rider's longing for prosperity were two opposing sides of a coin that would never see eye to eye.

Whoever sought these two in tandem might as well have been a walking contradiction.

"But even then, he sought it out. Enlisting the help of sailors, soldiers, heroes throughout the lands that were willing to answer the call," he chuckled to himself, "And we did. I did as well. Saber, when I said that the men that heard of me never truly knew me, this man who sought to be king was the only one who ever saw me as a mere man rather than a tool of the gods."

"He was a fool and a coward, but he was the most humane man I ever knew, someone I couldn't help but respect despite his flaws," Archer muttered, silently tracing his finger along the ground. "In a way, he helped seek out that feeling of camaraderie that I had never felt until then. But alas… his dream was all for naught. He died alone, unhappy, and crushed by the very same object of his legend that helped him nearly achieve that dream."

A picture began to take shape, the demigod's finger forming a crude drawing of a boat from the makeshift sediment of dust and wine. A mighty ship with vast sails and countless oars that could beat away the waves by pure might alone.

Saber stayed silent, absorbing the words that the gargantuan man had told her, but dared not to speak even then.

"And your wish, Archer?" Rider broke the silence, speaking for Saber as they both held the same question, "What would you want of the Grail?"

"I have no need for the Grail," he answered, his voice concise but bearing only an inkling of haste, "It is simply part of my nature to answer the calls of a Master, be they divine or otherwise. Simply put, each class container of a Servant summons mere aspects of our own forms. As an Archer, this places me in my most natural state as that of a hero. Perhaps if I was a Rider or Assassin, then I would have a relevant wish."

"And what about you, Saber?"

"I…" Saber looked at her mug, drained of wine as it was, "Despite my rule, I had led my country to ruins. I had given and done everything asked of me as a king, and yet my knights each abandoned me one by one through my own faults. Despite doing what I can for my people, they still turned against me… but I know that if I had done things differently, there'd be a chance to save my homeland. I…"

"_-wish I had never been king."_

"...wish to avert the destruction of my kingdom," she omitted the full truth, lying through her teeth. She sighed, finally able to confess a slight modicum of her feelings.

And yet… silence overtook them. Saber was confused, the mere confession of her wish couldn't be enough to force them into silence. Unless...

"It's like you didn't learn a thing," Archer shook his head, the interest in his eyes died as he looked away, "I had hoped you'd gain something from this, King of Knights. But I'm afraid I was let down."

Saber winced at his scolding, her face flushed red in anger at his retort at her, "You dare to lecture me on the workings of kingship?"

"I didn't," he answered, "I listened to your own thoughts on kingship, even understood the meaning behind it, but never did I think that someone such as yourself had the audacity to regret their own rule."

Rider turned to Archer with surprise on his face. He too was disappointed by Saber's wish, but he never saw the man so wrathful.

"You actually had the nerve to lecture us on the tenets and merits of being a hero and a ruler, and then you simultaneously spit on your own words by admitting your own regretful nature," Archer's hands shook, running his fingers through his wild lion-esque mane, "You truly are a broken soul, Pendragon."

"I gave everything, sacrificed my own freedom for the sake of others, Archer! I'd walk that same path of damnation a thousand times over if it meant the salvation of my people."

"You only care about yourself, little girl," Archer spat, forcing Saber on the backstep as he rose to his feet, "From the very beginning, you decide the rule of your kingdom, to undo the destruction would be to undo your own rule. You may change whatever event you like, but you cannot change your own isolated nature."

"W-what…?" Saber's couldn't get a word out. Trying to disguise the true intentions of her wish and Archer had already figured it out. Just who the hell was this man?

"You say you'd walk that path of damnation a thousand times? I'd believe you, but don't you dare tell me that it was for a selfless cause. Because at the end of that road is a glorified escape to damn someone else in your place," the man shook his head, "You disgust me, Saber. You sweep away the sacrifices of your own men just for the opportunity to deny them. Your regrets had been your undoing and even then as a Servant do they continue to haunt you."

His words cut through to her like a blade to the heart. The Servant of the Sword quickly rose to her feet, "Archer-"

"Do not dare to speak with me until you can see the folly of your own actions," Archer began to take his leave, "If you knew what was best for you, take that sword of yours and fall on it, return to the Throne with at least some honor intact."

Saber's eyes widened at his words. Whatever resolve that held her heart in place had finally began to crack. Silently, ever so slightly, her body began to shake and shiver, her eyes obscured by her hair as she turned away.

No tears came, how could they? She had long since thrown away her feelings in order to rule and pass judgement without impartiality, she had been forced to do so to Guinevere after she and Lancelot's infidelity had been discovered. To pass judgement against even allies who had committed crimes had been another cross for her to bear.

And yet… she allowed it when it was merely a secret. She forgave Lancelot and continued her friendship with her queen… it was truly the height of hypocrisy.

Archer merely found a way to expose that truth to her. But she refused to let that sway her wish.

"And what of our business, Archer?" Rider queried, in no mood to speak with the girl as well but still piqued by the challenge the Servant had first proposed, "Would you not offer a duel here to test my own worthiness?"

"E-eh?!" a squeak caused the three Servants to turn away before an answer could be given, Waver quickly ran to his Servant, cowering behind the larger man, his eyes widened with fright, "W-what the hell is that!?"

The three Servants turned to the source of the diminutive young man's terror. Taking up arms at the sight of their adversary.

No… _adversaries._

Seven creatures each stood atop the rooftops of the Einzbern manor, their bodies demonic, muscled, and colored in a blue-purple hide that resembled a bruise. Horns and razor sharp teeth jutted out from their faces while they each possessed a pair of shadowy bat-like wings along their spine.

Each one stood roughly as tall as Rider.

"Irisviel, get behind me!" Saber yelled, clutching her sword in hand as the three Servants backed closer towards one another. Her eyes flickered between three of them while she assumed Rider and Archer did the same.

They made no effort to attack as the homunculus rejoined her friend.

"W-what are these things?" her voice tinged with fear, yet still composed,

"Demons," Archer readied his bow, nocking an arrow but did not take aim quite yet, "Or rather… some strange imitation of them," the giant turned to his rival, "Would you like to offer these things an alliance as well, King of Conquerors?"

"I'm afraid my offer for companionship has been put on hold for now," unsheathing the spatha at his side and pushing Waver behind him, "Keep still, boy, we'll make short work of these creatures yet."

They each stepped down in unison, hitting the ground of the courtyard in a dull crash, the stony floors beneath their feet crumbling like tissue paper as they landed. With each step they took, the five that had been surrounded noticed an inky black fog begin to roll ever closer.

Until finally… they acted.

The last step they took became a leap, their bat-like wings expanded and stretched out to the sky as they took flight, disengaging from the manor as they flew off into the distance.

"I… what?" Waver whispered to himself.

"They couldn't have been Servants, perhaps a Noble Phantasm. A weak one at that," Iskander lowered his blade, "Maybe they knew they stood no chance against a true Servant… a shame, I was looking forward to a battle."

"Be careful what you wish for, Rider," Archer spoke grimly, "I don't believe they fled out of cowardice. Did you happen to know which direction they were heading?"

"What do you mea… oh…"

Rider's eyes widened as realization sank like a stone. Saber quickly caught on as well, whatever sent those things knew to hide their presence, using the entire city of Fuyuki as both a hostage and a battleground.

Immediately and without hesitation, the man raised his sword and cleaved the very air, the Gordius Wheel shortly appeared before him once again, the familiar braying of bulls growing closer as crackling electricity quickly disappeared.

"Come now, Saber," Rider looked away from her as he and his Master stepped onto his Noble Phantasm, "We shall forget this conversation held for now. What matters right this very second is that we take care of this infestation."

Saber shook her head for a moment, turning towards Irisviel, who nodded at her with determination in her eyes. With a breath, the Servant stepped into the chariot alongside the giant, looking towards the Archer, "And as for you?"

"I'll be right behind you two," he nodded to the both of them, unslinging his bow, "The safety of the city is all that matters right now."

Rider grunted in affirmation before taking the reins, snapping them as his transport quickly obeyed, the solid wheels of wood and bronze crackled and creaked to life as they were then pulled into the air with a short "Hiya!"

As they three rode off towards the city, Archer and Irisviel watched as they disappeared. The Heroic Spirit looked down at the smaller woman, who only looked back up in concern.

"What will you do now?"

His question caught Irisviel off guard, but her decision was resolute, wishing for Kiritsugu's wish to come to fruition. She would help him defend the city, "I'll go with them."

The gargantuan man looked down at her, a glint of curiosity in his eyes as he slowly nodded. Finally, he knelt down, holding his hand out to the woman. "Come then, it would take too long if you simply went on your own."

"How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?" she seemed to glare at the man, who only chuckled at her skepticism.

Archer turned his head side to side, getting a view of the manor that had been easily infiltrated before looking back down, "You'd be putting yourself at risk on the frontlines, rather than by my side away from the battlefield while our allies fight those bastards head on."

She still kept that gaze, but eventually nodded. Irisviel took the Servant's hand as he then lifted her up and sat her on his shoulder, "If you try anything clever, I will fight back."

"And I'm sure I'd lose," Archer hummed to himself in amusement, "Hold on now, this will be a… bumpy ride, I believe they say here."

As they followed behind the other two Servants, Irisviel could do nothing but pray for her husband's safety.

"Kiritsugu… please be safe…" she whispered, hoping that he would hear it by some miracle.

**-oOo-**

"What the hell…?" was all the Magus Killer was able to make out as the city around him was suddenly in turmoil.

The city was engulfed in a haze of fog, the streets and lights morphed before his very eyes as craters of magma sprouted forth like a burst welt on skin. The trees melted away, blue plants he didn't recognize took their place as the air grew ever more rancid and poisonous. Those unlucky enough to have been on the streets before this sudden attack fell unconscious from the fumes, whether it was truly lethal remained to be seen.

Then came the attackers. Kiritsugu had watched as one of the citizens' skin seemed to tear and burst open suddenly, a grotesque and gigantic creature crawling forth from the blood and viscera, like a snake took large for its old skin. Sporting razor sharp teeth and talons, wicked horns, batlike wings, and indigo skin… this had to be the work of a Noble Phantasm.

Kiritsugu remained in his hotel room, looking down at his Command Seals and considering summoning Saber… no, she was better off protecting Irisviel. This couldn't have been the works of Lancer, Archer, or Rider either.

That left Berserker, Assassin, and… oh…

"Caster…" the magus muttered to himself.

_Click!_

"Kiritsugu, are you alright?" a hand placed itself on his shoulder. His trusted associate, Maiya Hisau, took hold of his Thompson Contender after redressing herself. Kiritsugu gave the woman a short nod before taking the oversized handgun, hiding it in the folds of his clothes.

"I'm fine, Maiya," he shook his head, "We need to head to safety until this all dies down. The Servants and the Church will be able to take care of this while it blows over, besides-"

A flock of bats flew by the window, screeching as they passed back and causing the man to stumble back in fright. The most eerie part of them being the uncannily human faces that rested upon their necks...

The man regained composure and turned away, walking over to the briefcase filled with his usual assortment of weapons, "-We're in no position to fight them in the state we're in right now."

They couldn't hope to kill a demon, let alone the dozens that seemed to sprout from the streets like ants from a hill. They were everywhere, molding the earth and city to their own twisted and desired hellscape. Thus they needed to prioritize taking out a much easier target while his Servant took to the frontlines.

The crackling of lightning boomed faintly in the distance as blue flickering light peeked through the blinds of the windows. Kiritsugu smirked at the fortunate introduction, perhaps Rider would provide a well enough distraction for those creatures as well.

Nevertheless, the man reached into the case, pulling out an assortment of familiar weapon parts and assembling them back together as each seamlessly stuck with an immaculate _click!_

Finally, Kiritsugu latched the magazine onto the weapon at his side, the weight telling him it was loaded with approximately fifty rounds. His trusted Calico did its job against lesser enemies, and taking out a Master would simply require a distraction before his Mystic Code finally came into play.

If they couldn't take out those monsters, then they'd have to settle for the remaining Masters likely to belong to the Servants

"Iri…" he muttered to himself, pangs of pain found itself within his chest before shaking it off, hoping that his wife was safe wherever she was. Even if he knew she would eventually become the Grail, he didn't know what he'd do if she died in this horrific event.

Until then, the heart of the Magus Killer turned to steel, that cold persona taking effect once more as he and Maiya left the room.

**-oOo-**

"Risei, what's the situation in Fuyuki?" Tokiomi queried the Overseer, seated within the basement of his own home, speaking through that speaker-like construct he had designed for communication between allies. He had received word from Kirei that his daughter had been found wandering the city and was currently being escorted by Assassin.

He'd have to thank his apprentice later for his actions, but right now was not the time.

"Kirei has just informed me that Saber and Rider have currently entered the fray," Risei responded, his voice firm and resolute, "And that Berserker and Lancer have been eliminated."

"This is fortunate news, Father Kotomine," the Tohsaka magus smirked to himself, "That narrows down our suspect to Caster."

"Indeed. Unfortunately, it is unbecoming of me to say that I had neglected his presence throughout the War," the priest shook his head shamefully, "However, I'll make amends."

"Oh?" this got Tokiomi's attention, "And how will you do that?"

"That should be obvious, Tohsaka-kun," Risei's voice was still resolute, but bore a twinge of amusement that even the magus managed to catch on, "I will be issuing an official order throughout the battle. Whoever manages to kill Caster… will receive an additional command seal."

Despite the kind and devout nature that Risei Kotomine possessed, he was also the same man willing to conspire against the others and bend the rules of impartiality in favor of the Tohsaka lineage in secret.

What was happening in Fuyuki was a major breach in the mysteries of the Moonlit World and something neither the Mage's Association nor the Church would stand for. But neither the priest nor the magus would lie to themselves and say it wasn't an opportunity to take advantage of the situation presented.

"Understood, Father Kotomine," was all Tokiomi responded, "It would be unfortunate for the Master that did kill Caster if they were unaware of the rewards presented."

"Indeed," Risei nodded, readjusting the lining of his cassock as his face shifted into a frown, "However, if they do indeed ask for a reward, I will have to oblige as Mediator of the War. I believe taking any opportunity presented would be a wise decision, Tohsaka."

He listened as the Magus hummed to himself in thought before going silent. No other words needed to be was all that needed to be said.

All they had to do was wait for the fruits of their labors to finally ripen.

**-oOo-**

"_Assassin, status update,"_ Kirei's voice sounded pressed, currently possessing an edge to it that the Spartan hadn't really taken notice of until now.

"_Currently returning Tohsaka's daughter right now,"_ the Servant had been forced to stay out of spirit form as the little girl slept, despite the need to replenish his dangerously low mana reserves, _"Is there an issue?" _

"_You can call it that,"_ a series of images flashed before Assassin's mind as he peered through his Master's eyes for a brief moment. Images of horrific creatures and the city shifting into some dark and hellish landscape, _"I've sent word to the Overseer that Saber, Rider, and Archer are currently engaging the situation." _

Magnum Opus… the words whispered through the shadowy Servant's ear.

A tinge of anger flashed through Assassin before managing to quickly quell the emotion. He'd gotten sloppy already and this is how that error was repaid. Right as he was already too drained to even fight, the enemy finally pulls yet another card out of his sleeve.

"_Lancer and Berserker have currently been eliminated, so that only leaves Caster as the perpetrator," _the Executor deduced, _"How fast would it take for you to return to the city after escorting Rin?" _

Assassin didn't even have enough mana in him to fight a full battle on his own, let alone call forth _MJOLNIR_ again. His weapons had been spent and destroyed, all he had left was his own body, wounded and in full disrepair as it was. All he was good for right now was…

The Servant listened as the little girl shifted around in her sleep, for once letting out a hollow sniggering to himself at the absurdity of what he had gone through. An actual laugh that although was formed out of grief, was one of his most genuine.

A heroic spirit that was summoned to fight, only to act as a scout for most of the war until finally coming face to face with two true legendary heroes, unlike himself who for sure didn't even exist in this time or even on the same world yet. Sure it was a two-on-one battle, but even then he only managed to gain the upper hand through trickery.

'_But isn't that the whole point of being Assassin?'_ said Assassin began to ponder to himself as he continued to march to his intended location with haste. His class severely contrasted with his true abilities… with his main Noble Phantasm classifying as a suit of armor with a set of shields, not something a shadowy killer of men would wear when committing a murder without being seen.

And yet he was born within a land devoid of magic or mystery or anything like that. Something like Magic Resistance for the knight classes or even Rider would've been unbefitting.

"_An hour at most, Master. Don't use a Command Seal unless absolutely necessary,"_ he finally answered Kirei. He received no reply as he continued his pace, but didn't question the reason as to why. The tether that tied between Master and Servant was thin considering their growing distance, but it was certainly still there, meaning that the priest was still alive.

Assassin decided to shift his thoughts elsewhere. Right now he had to focus on returning the girl rather than on the attack in Fuyuki in the meantime.

Minutes passed and Assassin had healed himself enough to no longer walk with a limp in his step. The wound in his shoulder had finally mended itself shut while the gouge in his abdomen was nearly healed. Everything else was simply internal bleeding and strained muscles, but Battle Continuation was a helluva useful skill to possess.

He just had to keep walking.

_Clink!_

The Servant stopped walking, turning around at the source of the noise to see something reflecting the moonlight off of its smooth surface.

Shifting Rin over his shoulder, Assassin knelt down and picked up the thing.

It was an emerald, an emerald half the size of its palm. The Servant had no interest in wealth or jewels, but what caught his attention was the surprising amount of mana that seemed to be stored within. His attention then shifted to the little girl in his arms.

Jewel Magecraft… that's what the Tohsaka's specialized in, right?

There wasn't enough mana to refill him completely, but enough to give him maybe one or two fights left before returning to the condition he was in right now.

Nevertheless, he pocketed the little jewel as he continued to carry the girl.

With enough to fight once more for the night, he'd probably have enough time to finally get rid of Caster. There was no way he'd waste an opportunity like this again.

"_Belay that order, Master,"_ he spoke to the priest through the link, a plan formulating within his mind, _"I know just how to use your last Command Seal." _

Silence on the other end for only a second until, "_...What do you have in mind?"_

**-oOo-**

"Woah woah!" Rider shouted to the two divine bulls, the chariot coming to a quick halt as they met the streets with a sudden crash, a sickening crunch followed after as the wheels of his Noble Phantasm was suddenly smattered with blood.

It'd be funny to say that the first devilish being to be killed was literally crushed under the weight of a chariot, but neither Servants nor Master could react so inappropriately during a time like this.

Saber stumbled slightly as she climbed off the chariot and onto solid ground, landing near the bridge connecting the city together. Letting out a breath, she got a better look at her surroundings, seeing the river trailing off into the ocean as moonlight reflected off of the surface.

It was a beautiful night, tis a shame that it had to be spent like this.

"Hmph, these creatures don't appear to be that strong. Most ridiculous excuses for demons I've seen so far," Rider grumbled to himself as he nudged the dying creature with a foot before turning his attention to Saber, the demon crumbled to ash, leaving behind the scent of ash and sulfur, "Is this battlefield well enough to your liking, King of Knights?"

"You've chosen an adequate location, Rider," Saber responded neutrally, eyes flickering throughout the area, "The buildings would provide too much cover for these devils, not to mention the collateral damage that would follow if we used our Noble Phantasms."

"Quite so, Saber, I can appreciate such a sharp eye. Only a shame you refuse to use it in my stead as well," the man grinned before turning his attention to his Master, deliberately ignoring said twitching sharp eyes from the opposing Servant, "Boy, I will need your assistance as well."

Waver stiffened up at his Servant's request before nodding, "I-I can probably trace back Caster's magic signature if I had enough time and the proper materials."

The King of Conquerors gave a short nod back to his Master before looking back to Saber, "So far we've chosen the battlefield and they too shall respond to our presence. I take it you noticed it too."

Saber returned a nod, her sword in hand and wreathed in that mask of air. The knightess had watched from below as they wandered their new hellish home before they took notice of the flying lightning chariot.

Their responses were slow and sluggish, as if they were newborn calves birthed from the womb of a mother… only uglier and more ferocious. They'd respond soon, but that only gave Saber, Rider, and Archer all the more time to prepare.

Those bruise-colored demons seemed to be attracted to their magical signature, but they also seemed coordinated in some sort of aspect. Something controlled them like a queen bee to her workers. They had the self-restraint to listen to orders, but the link appeared quite… unstable.

Saber knew not of who had summoned them. Her closest guesses being either Assassin or Caster due to their absence. If each were the case, she'd cut those snakes down as soon as she possibly could.

A sharp cacophony of shrieks filled the air like a deathly chorus, all of them too unearthly to belong to either man or beast. Blots of black tinged the dark-blue sky, rising forth from the city like bats from a cave as they sensed the presence of Servants.

They stormed forth from the city, that same black fog following behind them as the world itself seemed to bend to their will. The grass below wilted away from the stench of death, trees twisted and morphed to suit such hellish forms, the waters behind Saber and Rider slowly began to muddy and blacken, becoming a thick and viscous tar-like substance that clung to the shorelines.

Hell upon Earth began to draw ever nearer to the Servants, all of them ready to take on those demonic beasts til their very last breath.

Saber's face appeared determined, the body that was Artoria Pendragon took up that same honored battle stance as those creatures drew closer. And yet her hands trembled at the thought…

The King of Knights' face turned to confusion, why was she shaking? She had no reason to be afraid, she'd faced down legions of bloodthirsty barbarians, Romans, and warring factions over the domain of England, this would be nothing!

But perhaps… she was afraid for the safety of her associates. Thoughts of Irisviel flashed before her mind, placed in harms way even though she was far from the battlefield, and…

She shook her head and turned back to her enemies, prioritizing the death of her foes for the sake of her comrades.

"Stay safe," she muttered to herself, desperately hoping they had heard her prayer.

Damned flesh wreathed in smoke drew ever closer, their mangled maws and talons itching to maim and tear flesh from bone, especially those wreathed in mana.

The sword of Saber rose into that same battle stance she always fell into. Right now, both Kings alike had one goal in mind as their enemies finally reached them.

Without hesitation, they struck, claiming the first casualty of this battle.


	9. Chapter 9: Killer's Memoir

A bored man sat down at the edge of town. A phone in his hands long since dead of its battery after a call with a certain Servant.

He was honestly expecting more, art was something to take pride in… and yet there was none.

Three main colors painted the city: blue, red, and green.

Blue flowed through the landscape like water, the red contrasting with the blue, yet couldn't blend into that deep violet. The form was solid like gelatin, existing with the world despite the world's efforts to deem it abominable.

Those moving blots of muddled blue trudged through the canvas, a bland world that simply needed their presence. They wandered aimlessly without order.

Blue in itself was a paintbrush, creating more and more red as more things moved around them, overlapping with another dark blue that followed in its wake and suffocating the rest in those noxious fumes. But the man found his artwork awfully boring even as it continued to paint itself.

But with him lied a student who saw the beauty within it. His favorite color was that of crimson, like grapes and wine and blood and guts. Ryuunosuke was a simple man who saw beauty in the simple things he loved, but the man he was bound to was a complex man with a more refined taste for intricacy.

A splash of blood eased and jolted the nerves of a serial killer, but the patterns of a spiderweb was more to the schemer's liking. They were too much different, but they shared a common interest that pulled them together closer than anyone else would ever think. Two artists with different styles that favored a similar end goal.

Not unlike a pair of magi from vastly different cultures that both sought the Root in their own ways.

Despite their differences, there was simply a problem for the two artists:

There was simply too much _green._

The canvas had already been painted, too much dull greys, browns, and most of all green. It was all the two could ever see so far in their lives, it was painfully dull.

It had been their desire to paint over it, to start over with their own vision of a masterpiece. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, so it was up to them to do the work themselves.

There was only some slight problems that hindered the creation of that work. Those hindrances bearing weapons of bow, mount, and sword while the dagger had yet make their appearance.

What a shame, what a shame.

"I've created this masterpiece and even you can't appreciate it, Assassin," the bored man shook his head, a hollow smirk etching itself on his face.

'_But what can I do but continue?' _The man thought to himself. Assassin was a mere delicacy in the grand scheme of things, he shouldn't meander of such trivial matters.

The monsters that stalked through the night found their targets: two Servants and a magus that thought themselves to have the upper hand in the battlefield. They no longer feasted themselves on the citizens of Fuyuki, focusing on a bigger meal, greedy little bastards they were.

But even then the results were still shown as they were: men, women, and children screamed in horror as demonic creatures from some unnamed shadowy realm were brought forth into existence. Their maws gaping wide and hungering for blood as their talons sliced through meat, bone, and sinew.

The world would be painted ever more red for this night.

He'd show his fellow Servants the folly of their legends. He'd bring down the Kings from their gilded thrones and show them what it means to truly be vulnerable… merely starting with this little show of force.

_From Hell_ was an imperfect incantation, but one that Caster was familiar with. He was there when Jack the Ripper made his move through the world, cutting up prostitutes and tearing out their organs. If he had been able to remember the face and words that the young killer had told him, then perhaps this thieving mockery of a Phantasm could've been perfect.

But that murderer was an elusive man… or was it a woman? Caster shook his head, it was one detail in his life that he couldn't remember, out of everything he saw and heard.

_From Hell _was an imperfect incantation, but it still has its uses. Successful manifestation of hundreds of demons to fight on his behalf. They were dull and stupid creatures without minds of their own since there was no true personality that led them.

"Holy shit…!" a voice breathed beside him, barely able to contain his own excitement.

Right, he nearly forgot about Ryuunosuke. He turned around to face his Master, who seemed to be on the verge of tears with what he was witnessing.

"Ask for a demon," Caster grinned a wide grin as he flourished his arm out to the city, "And I will show you all of Hell."

Ryuunosuke Uryuu was a simple man with one simple pleasure. A man who looked for death, be it by his hand or others. It was something he wanted to see, no matter what.

And with a wish like that, how could Caster say no?

The killer's face snapped to his Servant, grasping his hand fervently in his own and shaking it with all the enthusiasm of someone who just won the lottery, "Thank you thank you thank you, Mister! It's so beautiful… it's… it's…"

Ryuunosuke stood at the edge of the building, his feet balancing over the edge. Yet he knew no fear.

"COOOOOOOOOOOOL!" his scream echoed into the chaotic night, the hisses of demons and the deathly wails of dying civilians seemed to scream back in response.

The Holy Grail War was reaching a crescendo, and it was Caster's job to lead the music to its requiem...

* * *

Dozens appeared before them, wave after wave they arrived. Glowing white eyes like pilot lights flickered and glowed as both kings fought off against the hellish tide.

They swooped down on shadowy wings, landing on their feet as the earth grew scorched and bare. Both Saber and Rider backed against one another as they were completely surrounded.

"Graaah!" Iskandar roared, ducking to avoid a blow of savage claws before running his blade through yet another beast's heart, the tenth one he killed so far before it collapsed into dust, "These things just don't know when to quit."

They poured forth from the city, crawling down buildings like black waterfalls and soaring through the skies like bats.

Saber only responded with a ferocious yell of her own as she pitched forward to avoid an attack aimed for her before stabbing forward. The Hammer of the Wind King summoning forth combined with mana-infused power, blowing three more enemies to smithereens.

Both Servants had been kings of their own times, one had slayed many men and monsters throughout the ages, and yet even this oncoming tsunami of bodies only seemed to multiply with each kill.

It was almost too much for Saber, but she still managed to hold on.

She dashed forward, splitting off from the King of Conquerors and into another horde of demons. Their bodies were too big to swing adequately at her smaller frame, dashing between swipes and swings as limbs were quickly severed from her invisible blade.

Saber fought back a gag as the noxious fumes of the fog continued to roll forward. The misty black air seeping into her lungs made her eyes burn and nostrils sting as her hands began to shake and arms felt as though they were withering.

What the devil was happening to her?

Now that she thought about it, the fog was beginning to grow denser while the demons appeared to have grown stronger with every death that came for them. The knightess turned back to the sound of coughing to see that Rider's master had pitched forward, blood pooling from his body as he continued to vomit and inhale those fumes.

Her eyes widened, remembering how the city itself seemed to shift and warp according to the existences of those demons.

"Damn…" she muttered to herself, "Rider!"

The man had sustained only minor wounds at the expense of cutting down several more beasts, "What is it, Saber!? I'm in the middle of something!"

That "middle of something" being Rider's spatha quickly finding itself lodged in the ribcage of another demon. The red-haired giant grunted as he found himself almost unable to pull the weapon from its body before pushing the beast back with a mighty shove of his arm.

"It's the fog!" Waver managed to rasp before Saber, quickly managing to deduce the purpose, "The fog weakens the power of Servants and… poisons normal humans."

It was by the young magus' natural resistance to thaumaturgy that he was even able to remain alive, let alone keep standing, even for a third-rate magus as he was. The young man tore a sleeve off of his coat snapped off the twig of a branch before muttering an incantation to himself.

The branch quickly lit up in flames, leaving behind a black sooty ash. Waver quickly placed the contents within the sleeve before wrapping it around his face, covering his nose and mouth.

Charcoal, when activated, could be used as a natural filtration device. Under normal means it would be a difficult process to create, but the use of magecraft allowed even Waver Velvet the ability to perform such a mundane feat.

Saber had noticed the effect that Waver had described as well, the weight of her sword grew heavier in her hands with each swing. It was through her own skill, Mana Burst, that she was still able to cleave her enemies in two while her counterpart in red seemed to be able to continue by brute strength alone.

Perhaps it was by Rider's divine status that he was still able to retain some modicum of strength. Did these creatures still fall victim to their demonic heritage, however false it was?

It was a clever contingency plan that both Saber and Master of Rider began to realize. The more demons that were killed, the denser the fog would continue to become. Like a cluster of dirty bombs that exploded one by one.

They needed to come up with a plan, and fast.

The number of dead that fell by Saber and Rider's hands continued to dwindle. The haze continued to grow even further until Saber could barely see, having to rely purely on Instincts to even be able to survive.

"R-Rider!" Waver yelped out in fear as one of the demons leaped for him, claws outstretched and merely a few meters away from tearing out his throat. Rider turned back and quickly dashed for his Master, his eyes widened as the distance was too far.

_THUNK!_

A volley of arrows pierced several demons in Waver's path, all of them missing the young man as the trail of missiles cut a swath of beasts down in their path.

"Archer," Rider grinned and shook his head, nearly having forgotten about the demigod. Grabbing the boy by the collar of his sweater, much to his protests, Rider called forth the Gordius Wheel once more, lightning singeing any nearby demons as both Servant and Master climbed into the Chariot, "Saber, come! We're leaving the battlefield!"

Saber dodged another swipe before turning back to Rider with a scowl on her face. While honor deemed her to stay here and continue fighting, she knew that not heeding the larger man's words would simply get her killed.

Climbing into the chariot, Iskandar took whipped the reins, carrying the three into the air as they soared above the city. Saber turned to Rider, "What's the plan now?"

"We'll look for a secluded area in the city," Rider said, his eyes scanning the roads below, "I may have a plan, but it's incredibly risky. Saber-"

His voice was low, catching the girl's attention, "Can that sword of yours destroy an army in a single blow?"

"I…" Saber tried to say, unsure whether or not to divulge the nature of her Noble Phantasm. The Servant of the blade shook her head, _'This is a matter of chivalry, Artoria! It matters not whether he knows, only that the innocent be protected.' _

"It can," she confessed, gripping her invisible sword in her left hand while the other held onto the lip of the chariot, "However, it can only be accessed with both-"

Then she realized it, her hand was able to fully grasp the handle of the sword. Her eyes widened at the implications that were given, now that her sword was in full access. Her expression turned grim as the Gordius Wheel continued sailing.

'_Lancer…'_

"What's the matter, Saber?" Rider looked down at the knightess in blue.

"I-it's nothing," she muttered to herself, placing that mask of steely resolve back onto her face, "My sword is capable of such ability. Let us proceed with this plan if my blade is all you require."

Rider frowned at her answer and looked away, satisfied with the answer but concerned with the facade she tried to place. He didn't say anything else as they found an adequate spot to land, bare of any onlookers.

They only had one opportunity for victory.

**-oOo-**

Archer could tell what Rider was already doing by that look on his face. That man was up to something, and with the King of Conquerors who knew not defeat, he had confidence in his ally's abilities.

Unfortunately, he couldn't participate due to one unfortunate issue.

"Look out!" a woman's voice yelled. The giant turned and fired another arrow, the very air separated by the sheer force of firing a mighty shot, gouging the eye of another demon that got a bit too close for comfort as it fell from the air and splattered into dust.

Any other class that he could be summoned into and the man would more than likely be partaking in the fight below, while some other lower-classed Archer would be fighting on his behalf.

He made a promise to himself to protect the Einzbern woman, she was a liability to the rest of the Servants if she joined them on the frontlines. She was safer from here.

"My thanks, Einzbern," he rumbled a low thanks as raised the bow again, pulling another arrow forth and drawing it back. The woman merely nodded back in return, focusing where the Servant wasn't, among other things.

The two had landed upon a building farther away from the battlefield, roughly five kilometers if he was being generous. Archer would've been fine picking off his foes from a farther distance, but the infrastructure and those trying to survive the onslaught would dirty his name as a hero.

He was a man of valor, and he wouldn't simply kill innocents because it was convenient for him to kill off a smattering of irritating pestilence.

That was the path of a villain, one that he would never stray towards so long as he existed within the material plane. Archer continued his cycle, drawing an arrow and firing again and again, every shot made their mark as dozens of demons dropped from the sky like flies.

They were only limited in number, he'd only counted a dozen or two that fell by his hand if he had to guess, but they were durable bastards if they weren't wounded in completely fatal marks.

Archer had faced off against bigger and stronger foes throughout his life and all the same did they succumb to defeat by death or otherwise.

But these foes were numerous and gargantuan in size, demons that he would've likely have fought at some point had the gods deemed him to.

Another demon popped out before him, too close for him to take aim properly and forcing the bow out of his hands. The creature roared as he grabbed onto it, wrestling the creature away from the homunculus woman he swore to protect for this night.

"Get away from her!" the Servant of the Bow snarled, ignoring the pain as the demonic entity's claws managed to rake through his divine skin and draw blood. With a mighty heave, the demigod twisted the demon's shoulders back, dislocating them completely before reaching for its neck, snapping it with a twist of his wrist before tossing it aside before it could even make a sound.

The snap itself reverberated through the night, a thunderclap of demonic bones snapping through the sounds of echoing devilish laughter of man-faced bats, hisses of magma-filled craters, and cracking beats of demon wings.

Several more turned their attention to him as they saw the blood running down his arms. His blood.

They knew they could hurt him now, they knew he can die.

But Archer only raised his bow once more, grinning a prideful smirk befitting of a hero.

He could die as many times as needed, so long as this night was over.

Seven swooped by, claws outstretched with the intent to draw blood and tear out his innards. But each one was met with an arrowhead in each of their brains, killing them upon contact. It was mere child's play.

But it was merely a ruse as they drew closer. A clever formation formed from hiding under the shadows of their comrade's corpses. Hiding in the shade before striking with that newfound tactic, getting in close as this new seven all simultaneously attacked the Archer Servant before he could draw another arrow.

They were weak in constitution, but what they lacked in endurance, they made up for by sheer numbers and brutality. Claws found themselves sunken into the divine flesh as the demigod let out a roar of anger, swinging the frame of his bow and his fists as each of them surrounded him.

"A-Archer!" Irisviel yelled, the demons too focused on gorging themselves on the blood of a hero to pay attention to the more diminutive creature before them.

The Servant grit his teeth as a demon sank its fangs into his right arm. With a grunt and heave, the man wrenched his arm back tossed the creature into the air. One of arrows beside him lay embedded in the concrete while the six other demons continued to assault him from every angle.

Chunks of flesh were torn from his torso, legs, and shoulders. But even then the Servant continued to kick and fight back. Freeing his left arm after snapping the neck of one of the demons, he grabbed the arrow nearby arrow while his right grabbed hold of the bow.

That same demon he tossed back into the air attempted to return, unsatisfied by the blood it had only tasted and wanting for more.

Archer was missing three fingers from his right hand, having been bitten apart by that demon. With a surge of mana, he wrenched himself free from those beasts, stumbling and falling on his back as that one sped closer.

Thinking fast, he grabbed the bow and arrow, pulling back the arrow with his uninjured hand while the bow was held in place by his foot. The arrow was released and skewered through the demonic creature's face, killing it on impact.

_BOOM!_

The white-haired woman screamed, losing her balance as she tumbled and fell. It had been too soon for the corpse of that demon to dissipate as the world wished from it, crashing into the building and creating a shockwave that shook the entire infrastructure they stood on.

"Einzbern!" Archer yelled, reaching his hand to grab hers, but the troupe of phantasmal beasts pulled him back into the fight. His eyes turned a bright red, his throat emitting a roar that sounded akin to a lion as he continued to fight. Battle Continuation forced him to keep on fighting as parts of his body were already missing, bleeding profusely while his mind blanked out.

In that moment, Archer appeared like that of a Berserker. His senses refocused on battle and unable to realize the error that he had made.

That error being the falling Einzbern.

Irisviel watched as the ground grew closer, her panicked mind shutting off as she drew forth focus, unwrapping a wire she lay hidden within the folds of her clothes and muttering an incantation in German,

The wire took shape and attained function, the cry of a hawk cried forth as it's talons wrapped itself around her arm and unfurled its wings, allowing her to slowly descend as she landed safely against the pavement. Stumbling somewhat awkwardly, the woman was still able to catch herself.

The white haired woman looked up at the ruined building to see Archer being dragged off by those demons. The Servant fought like a savage beast as two more demons died from a swing of his arm crushing their skulls to dust.

In that span of time, Irisviel was completely vulnerable… and mighty screech split the night sky, this one closer than the rest and grabbing her attention.

In that time, a demon had diverged from their course towards Saber and Rider, deciding that a single morsel compared to the mana-dense forms that were the two Servants would have to do.

Not unlike a predator that would sic itself on easy prey before satisfying itself on larger game.

The hawk-like familiar let out a screech as it met the demon head on, intent on clawing its throat. The bruise-colored monster only swiped the wire-construct to shreds as it dove towards the Einzbern girl, her eyes widened as it drew closer, the woman unable to stop it as she was now finally left defenseless.

Even she didn't know if Avalon would recover the wounds this thing would inflict upon her in time. Terror wracked her heart as it grew closer, the life of a homunculus and the wife of Kiritsugu Emiya flashed before her eyes.

Kiritsugu, Saber… Illya.

She closed her eyes. Fearing not death or the pain inflicted, but failing the duties she had as the vessel of the Holy Grail.

_BANG!_

Irisviel felt pain flare up in her side, but nothing she couldn't imagine more than a forceful shove as an explosion thundered the air beside her. The push had thrown her back, but the damage sustained was a greater trade-off than the damage expected.

It was only a series of bruises that formed, but one that the Ever-Distant Utopia was able to heal without trouble. Nevertheless, Irisviel opened her eyes to find… something that shocked her.

The demon had been caught before it could do any further damage by something that managed to save her by every inconceivable odd.

Her savior was a Servant, but one she had never seen before. Appearing out of spirit form just in the nick of time like that of some comic book superhero. The build of the Servant was indeed male, covered in plates of gunmetal grey armor while a helmet obscured his face.

She quickly listed off the Servants in her head. Lancer, Rider, Archer, and Berserker had all appeared before Irisviel at one point alongside Saber, but this was a Servant she had never seen before. Nor was she even able to notice him while he saved her life.

Wait… she didn't notice him…

The Heroic Spirit before her caught the demon with his own bare hands, devoid of a weapon. One hand caught the closest arm that had reached for Iri while the other wrapped itself around its throat. The Servant was obviously struggling from the strength of his opponent and the impact he had muscled through.

With a loud grunt, the Servant squeezed his fingers around the demon's throat before a snap was finally heard. The monster fell limp and slowly began to dissolve much like the rest of its kin.

Slowly but surely, Irisviel rose to her feet. The Servant lowered his arms, hands now stained with tar-like blood, as he then faced Irisviel.

There was no hostility in his posture, but the homunculus woman was still skeptical. Nevertheless, she approached him slowly but still kept some modicum of distance.

"Assassin," was all she said. More of an observation than a question, but he still nodded nevertheless. Her throat felt dry from his confirmation, heart in her chest as she realized that the Servant of Kirei Kotomine had been alive this entire time.

So why was she still alive?

She watched as his body glowed for only a brief moment, the armor dissipating into a burst of mana as he fell to a single knee, clutching a massive gouge in the side of his stomach.

He stopped the demon from attacking Irisviel, but its other hand found itself within a new target shortly before its death.

Irisviel could hear his labored breathing as he tried to stand, weakly pulling himself up to his feet and walking away. A trail of blood followed him as he tried to leave.

"Wait," he stopped, listening to the voice of the woman and craning his head to look back at her, "You're… too low on mana to heal, right?"

Assassin stared at her through that featureless helmet of his, but he still nodded. But even then he still struggled to move away, as if telling her that his rescue of the woman was merely a one-time thing… or rather, did he just not want to be around her?

Irisviel was skilled in healing magecraft, having acted as support for Saber during their time together. If Assassin had saved her life just for this one time where Archer had failed, it would simply be unkind for her not to return the favor.

A small soft hand found itself around the Servant's arm, prompting him to freeze. Assassin turned around to see the woman standing before him, her body glowing slightly as magic circuits flared to life.

She watched as Assassin looked down at the wound, watching as the flesh beneath the black bodysuit knit itself together until only pale flesh remained. It was a patchy result, but made in haste due to the circumstances they were placed in, but it'd prevent any more bleeding that the man had sustained due to his injuries.

The results seemed to have some effect on him. He only beckoned to her to follow along, refusing to speak but still offering his support, as if telling the young lady that an exchange of support had to be repaid.

Perhaps as some form of thanks was it due to. But that made no sense, he saved her life on his own whim and she merely responded by offering what little of her magecraft she could give to the man.

He continued walking, his hand around hers and pulling her along. The homunculus woman was puzzled greatly by the actions of this walking contradiction, and so was further motivated to learn more simply out of curiosity rather than seeing him as a mere safety net while Saber was currently gone.

The Servant of the bow opened his eyes as all of his foes were finally dead, watching as Assassin continued to pull along the homunculus woman. He rose to his feet, trying to pick up his bow before falling once more.

"Assassin, you sentimental fool…" Archer chuckled to himself, closing his eyes as his body dimmed once more. Another life was claimed, but he would return shortly. For the first time in his life, Archer had failed in that aspect, and wouldn't forgive himself for this failure.

Nevertheless, Archer did not stop Assassin. In light of his failure to keep the Einzbern girl safe, he entrusted her to Assassin as the demigod shortly died, only to return from the brink of death to see that the two were gone.

His hands, now composed of all ten digits, wrapped themselves around that trusted bow of his.

Archer pulled back another arrow and let it loose. The air split once more as his arrow soared faster than the speed of a bullet.

"..Your newfound selfishness will get you killed," he whispered, thinking back on Assassin's actions as his arrow found its target.

Another one dead. So many more to go.

**-oOo-**

It wasn't simply demons that roamed the warped streets of Fuyuki.

"Kiritsugu, watch out!" Maiya yelled, pushing her mentor out of the way and stabbing forward with her knife suddenly unsheathed. The cackling laughter of a man echoed and died as steel pierced flesh, killing him instantly.

The dead man fell to the ground, blood pooling from his throat. Maiya sheathed her knife and unholstered the sidearm at her hip

This wasn't a matter of magecraft or poison of any kind. Anarchy roamed the streets among the hellish landscape. Demons and madmen alike, it was simply the knowledge that their existence brought with them.

Creating the concept of a demon brought for the essence of "Hell", pulling forth the implication of such a place to the ignorant. If Hell was truly brought upon Earth, the Rapture incarnate would be soon to follow.

The end of the world was a universal concept, nothing truly concrete like the Book of Revelations.

But it was still enough for the people to lose their senses.

Men who've long since gone insane from witnessing such horrors, opportunistic anarchists, thugs and gang members taking advantage of the chaos. It mattered little to all of them, while those sane enough or afraid locked themselves away, wishing for the nightmares to end.

Everyone that roamed the streets were simply pawns that fell under Caster's influence.

"It's only been a matter of hours," the Magus Killer muttered to himself, though Maiya was close enough to hear.

The sun still isn't even up yet and already the city's gone mad.

They needed to find Caster. _Now_.

Magus Killer and apprentice quickly jogged through the streets, stepping over the blistered cracks of the streets. Magma flowed freely like rivers through the nearby freeways, the ground below shifted into cobblestone streets reminiscent of Victorian era London while the modern infrastructure also seemed to shift in turn.

The air was sour and thick with a viscous haze that made Kiritsugu's eyes water. The smell of sulfur, tar, and shit was almost too much for the man as he and Maiya continued their way forth.

"We need to find Irisviel," Kiritsugu reshouldered the rifle hanging off from him, feeling as it loosened itself somewhat from their "stroll" through the city.

"And what then?" Maiya queried. His reason didn't matter to her, she'd follow it anyway. But both needed an effective strategy for the hereafter.

"We find a place to wait out the storm," the Magus Killer answered, tempted to reach into his coat pocket and light a cigarette, "Saber will take care of this and then... "

And then what?

Once again, doubt found itself in his heart. Caster and his Master could be anywhere in this city. He was once again unsure if there was any rhyme or reason for this attack. Was this demonic infestation an attempt to finish off the rest of the Servants? Was it some way of covering up an even bigger plan they had in store?

Or, Kiritsugu's breathing grew sharper at the thought, was it simply for the hell of it?

The Master of Saber didn't know the true reasoning behind this attack, and that's what frightened him the most. At the end of the day, despite how little he thought of his Servant, he trusted that Saber would take care of this infestation.

The church would then try to hide cover up this entire incident with something mundane that the citizens ignorant of the Moonlit World could feasibly believe.

So he had to change tactics for now. Caster would have to wait, right now his highest priority was making sure Irisviel was safe. She was the vessel for the Holy Grail, if a Servant like Caster got ahold of her…

If that_ bastard _even dared to desecrate his wife...

"Hey you!" a raspy voice almost caught his attention, but the Magus Killer didn't turn his head. Out the corner of his eye he saw that it was a thug with a switchblade in hand. He only pointed the Calico hidden from sight and gunned down the man without hesitation, the rapid fire repetition of bullets too loud for him to hear the gurgle that his failed assailant let out.

Kiritsugu Emiya wiped a thumb against his cheek, now stained from the red mist that sprayed forth from the dead man before his skull shattered shattered against the ground.

His eyes were blank and lifeless, focused only on one thing and one thing only.

"I'm coming for you, Irisviel," he whispered, absentmindedly checking checking the ammunition in his Calico, listening to Maiya sliding back the rack on her sidearm as she did the same, a simple Glock 19 that she had chosen for herself during their early days.

It was events like the Holy Grail War that brought out the worst in people. Kiritsugu was no different, a hundred bodies lay still behind him as both he and his assistant trudged onward. The only difference was what lay at the end of the path.

When every Servant was defeated, every action that he had taken would be justified. For the good of the World, in spite of all that died before him, Kiritsugu Emiya would save it all.

The sound of gunfire had attracted attention, a crowd that held a variety of different weapons. Sticks, stones, guns, they gathered around the man and woman, both of them unassuming and looking like mere civilians ripe for the picking.

Kiritsugu snorted slightly. Did they not see what he was carrying?

His eyes flickered to Maiya, and she did the same. The magus readied his Innate Time Control. Double Accel would be enough to dispatch all of them without too much trouble.

"Gurgh!-" they all gurgled, each of them limply fell to the ground like rag dolls. Blades the size of a normal man's arm jutting out from their spines. Thugs fell one by one to reveal their killer.

The Magus' eyes narrowed at the sight while Maiya inhaled sharply at the reveal.

A man in black stepped forth, blades held deftly between his fingers.

Kirei Kotomine's face was unwavering, a stone-like visage that held no emotion. But the man couldn't be anymore elated by their meeting.

Neither parties moved as they stood across from one another. There was a fifteen meter gap that separated Magus Killer and Executor.

'_No, I don't have time for this,' _Kiritsugu's eyes seemed to dilate from the sheer shock of meeting the Executor. Not a single word had been exchanged and yet they both knew.

Kiritsugu had more important matters to settle, but Kirei wouldn't allow that. Both were aware, but each knew that only one would come out of this alive.

The Magus Killer bit back a curse. Irisviel currently possessed Avalon, it would no doubt keep her alive for the coming night. Kiritsugu was almost tempted to use a Command Seal, but whether Irisviel was already with her, he knew not.

Without that sheathe, Kiritsugu would be limited to the conditions of his own body.

Whether he liked it or not, this was an issue he had to deal with.

Kirei Kotomine looked back at Kiritsugu, a silent agreement between them seemed to have settled itself. With only them and their tools, they would finally be able to end this long awaited moment.

They both acted simultaneously. Executor charged forth, blades in hand while Magus Killer raised his Calico, pulling the trigger as the gap between the two started to shorten.

He had to come up with a plan… and fast.

"Maiya!" he shouted, giving his first order to the woman as she raised her own weapon in kind.

It all came down to this.


	10. Chapter 10: Apex

Tokiomi Tohsaka was not in a good mood. Simply put, the magus in red was absolutely pissed.

Even from his own manor, he could detect the odd scent of brimstone that seemed to seep in from the windows.

_Click!_

There, it was gone. Tokiomi looked down at the floor, eyes gazing down at its texture while his mind wandered elsewhere. The whole time did the Tohsaka magus think he had the entirety of the war figured out… but it was one single figure that had eluded him that pulled apart the seams that was the Heaven's Feel.

Caster. The single weakest class for direct combat. But like any other magus, they were the most eccentric and elusive. That fact had not gone unnoticed and it was a failure on his part. He had no one to blame but himself. He directed Kirei and he followed his orders without hesitation, he formed the plan and Risei offered his own advice that Tokiomi took to listen but never to heart.

All of it was his fault.

The plan was to have Assassin act as their eyes and ears while Archer was the trump card, his ace in the hole that could win the war if applied correctly.

But he couldn't even manage _that_.

He intended to summon Gilgamesh with the catalyst received, and he was given a completely different Heroic Spirit. The realization of the snake's fossil belonging to another hero of legend completely eluded him.

That serpentine catalyst now sat in his vault, the skeletal remains of a strangled snake by godlike hands rather than the fossilized remains of molted skin.

Next was his apprentice. Kirei was supposed to summon Hassan-i Sabbah, but summoned what was assumed to be a Spartan, an apt soldier that served his purpose with determination, but not what he had originally intended.

The entirety of the war was a complete disaster, the whole masquerade that hid it completely unraveled. Caster succeeded in… whatever they had intended.

Tokiomi made no outward expression, merely swishing a glass of wine in his hand before bringing it up to his lips, tasting the bitter fruit of his labors. The night sky was black as ebony and the moon hung in a perfect crescent. Such a shame it had to be spent like this.

Tokiomi blamed himself, but he wouldn't spend the rest of the night complaining about the situation that he had placed himself in. It was the pride of a magus and his own lineage that he himself was bound to that compelled him to fix this slight.

With a grim face, the man turned and began his descent down into the basement. The faded summoning circle that he used to summon Archer still remained, but it had long since served its function.

He needed to consult the Mediator and tell him...

And tell him… tell him what? Tohsaka fashioned this whole plan from the ground up, surely there was something that the old priest could offer to find a solution.

Tokiomi grabbed hold of the phonograph-like device, the same old tool he used to communicate with Kotomine without any regard for mundane interferences. Nothing like that damned Magus Killer wiretapping into their conversations or whatever it was that Kirei had called it.

The jewel within the device, the pride of the Tohsaka family, was what allowed he and the priest to communicate.

"Father Kotomine, I'd like a word with you," he spoke clearly. His voice was unwavered, but the magus was practically panicking on the inside due to his own faults, "There have been some concerns involving our numerous deviations from the original plans and… I would like your input on how we should proceed."

It took the magus much pride to utter those words. But Tokiomi was at his wit's end and in a desperate situation.

Risei Kotomine was an old man, just now having reached the age of eighty during this Holy Grail War and was the Mediator of the previous. As far as he remembered, he gained insight over those years and definitely knew much more than let on were any other Master to speak with him.

Tokiomi ran a thumb along the goatee under his chin, a habit that would often never go unnoticed by Aoi…

The magus remembered his wife's face, clear as day. His heartbeat began to slow down as her serene smile calmed him. His mind briefly flashbacked to his family.

Aoi, Rin… Sakura…

"_She's better off now,"_ he had told himself. She would get the tutelage she needed, her future of being used by others because of her lack of affinity would not come as he had feared. He loved her like he loved everyone else he attached himself to and only wished the best for her.

But for now he had to focus on what was currently present…

Silence. The magus had all but received silence from the magical device sitting before him.

"Father Kotomine, can you hear me?" Tokiomi queried once more, met with that same nothing again, "Kotomine? Risei, can you hear me?!"

"I'm afraid our dear Mediator and priest is preoccupied with other matters, old chap," a devilishly mischievous voice snickered as the Tohsaka magus turned around, the sudden presence of mana firing off in his head.

A Servant.

Silvery hair and bright blue eyes caught his attention. He was a young man likely in his early twenties. Dressed in an anachronistic apparel of high-class western garb from Victorian-era England, a gloved hand rested underneath a dull bronze cane much like Tokiomi did with the jeweled one in his.

"Being dead will do that. The demonic scourge upon this land have a… natural distaste for the righteous," Caster looked away, studying the mechanical contraptions that lay within Tokiomi's workshop, "So this is the study of a modern magus? How... underwhelming."

Tokiomi ignored the slight upon his family's prestige and glared at the man. This place was his territory, Caster was disadvantaged as he was no longer on his own. A Servant surpassed the limits that modern humans hold, but without resistance to magic, they were no different.

And that just so happened to play in the magus' favor now that his enemy had shown himself.

"I assume you're here to kill me," Tokiomi boomed his voice, reinforcing his vocal cords with magecraft in an attempt to intimidate Caster.

"You're quite an astute one, I'll give you that," Caster withdrew a pipe from his jacket and lit it. Tokiomi crinkled his nose at the waft of tobacco, "Those command seals on your left hand are a nuisance and I need them gone, simply put. You have about… what? Two remaining?"

With only a simple thought, Tokiomi could summon Archer here at any moment and remove this Servant from his sight. But other questions sprang forth from the magus.

"How did you get past the defenses?"

"Oh those?" Caster removed his pipe, blowing a stream of dirty gray smoke from his lungs, "I merely took a page out of two Masters of this war's books, so to speak. One being the Magus Killer, who was gracious enough to be ignorant of me rummaging through his belongings."

Tokiomi knew about Kiritsugu Emiya, he'd have to deal with him later.

But right now…

"And the other?"

Caster placed the pipe back between his lips, "Your own apprentice of course, Kotomine Kirei I believe you call him. He was kind enough to show me the gaps in your own Bounded Field, the very same that you had Assassin infiltrate for your little ruse."

The Servant grinned at the shocked look upon the Master's face, like showing a neanderthal the existence of fire. He then watched as Tokiomi's features returned to that plain skeptical look that all men in denial would turn to, "So you entranced him with your own variant of hypnotism then. My apprentice is not so easily swayed by the likes of you."

Caster chuckled. At first slowly as he turned to look away from the Tohsaka, before hunching over and leaning his arms against the wall. Growing in volume and intensity as he threw his head back and cackled loudly, shoulders hunched over and bobbing from the raucous noises emitting from his lungs.

"You-you really have no idea, do you?" eventually the Servant calmed down, "Your apprentice joined this war for a reason. What, you think his wish was simply to serve others? An Executor from the Church working alongside a magus, even one such as yourself? _Please…_ if you truly believe that, then this whole conversation was a waste of my time."

"What are you talking about?" Tokiomi growled.

"Right now, Kirei is out there in the city searching for that Magus Killer, both of them have helped me in their own little ways…" Caster sighed wistfully, "So who better than I to help them both than to introduce them to each other? I'm sure your apprentice has been _dying_ to meet him all this time."

Tokiomi felt the gears begin to click into place, "He joined this War looking for something… and believed the answer existed with Emiya."

"Bingo! I believe the phrase goes," the man clapped a hand, "The Grail doesn't simply create a Master on another's whims. You were just too blinded by your apprentice's misassumed piety to ever consider such an idea. But that's enough talk-"

Tokiomi's eyes widened, the command seal in his hand flashed to life. From the whole set-up that Caster had taken to prepare, his power as a magus required time and effort.

A simple thought would be needed to bring Archer to his side, just this once.

Caster made no effort to act, only watching as the command seal glowed ever brighter with a curious glint in his eye.

'_By the power of my command seal, I order you,'_ the order took a fraction of a second as it flashed through the man's mind, _'Archer, defen-'_

**BANG!**

Tokiomi's order came to a halt, along with everything else as the man crumpled to the floor.

A dime-sized hole protruded from his head as blood began to pool around the corpse. The splatter of brain matter and spray of blood coated the walls as Caster turned back around, setting the still-smoking pistol onto a nearby table.

"I'm summoned as a Caster, but that does not make me a true magus," the Servant looked down at the dead man, shaking his head as he disappeared, _"I expected more from the great magus of the Tohsaka family… oh well." _

Caster left the manor without any regard for what just happened. Why was this War filled with so many _boring_ people?

**-oOo-**

It all came down to this.

"Saber!" the red-haired king called out to his other, "Are you ready?"

The smaller woman in blue nodded, her sword clutched in both hands tightly and without disability. Her throat was dry, forcing her to swallow out of habit in an attempt to quench it.

"I can only hope the gods are on our side for this," Iskandar smiled to himself before pointing his blade towards the charging masses of demonic foes.

The three had rested the chariot upon a wide street, enough for every single one of those things following after them to converge. Archer seemed to catch on to their scheming as any of those creatures that dared to split off from their usual swarm were picked off almost instantaneously.

At this point, only a hundred or so finally remained.

Saber, Rider, and his Master all stood within the carriage. The King of Conqueror's hands bound tightly around the reins while the pair of divine bulls only brayed their impatience.

"Any last words?" a voice piqued Rider's attention, looking down to see Saber with a grim look on her face, "There may be a chance we might not come out of this alive."

Rider blinked owlishly before letting out a thunderous laugh, "Nonsense, Saber! Have some faith in your abilities, it's why you're a Servant after all, right? Now-"

His hands tightened around the ropes bound around his steeds, before Saber could have a chance to respond, "-LET US GO!"

The iron chariot creaked and groaned as the bulls let out a huff, beating their hooves against the pavement as everything surrounding them tore apart and burst like confetti.

The blonde-haired King of Knights could taste the ozone in the air as lightning began to build up and crackle, blue sparks surrounded the chariot as it was pulled in an electrifying burst of speed. She could feel the tips of her hair stiffen up as static began to build.

Saber gripped her sword tighter, willing to strike whenever Rider was ready to put his plan in motion.

The plan was to wipe out each and every single one of these beasts in one strike. However, with their battlefield consisting of an open area gone, there was little options for deploying such a strike without creating some sort of collateral damage.

Both Rider and Saber agreed that such damage would put a detriment on the Grail War and their own desires as a whole. Saber's ideals to save the innocents and Rider's wishes to conquer without creating needless carnage.

Gordius Wheel ascended into the air and into the heart of the swarm, the lighting discharge created from Rider's Noble Phantasm kept the demonic horde at bay as Rider looked around.

"W-what are you waiting for, Rider!?" Waver yelled at the man, "Don't you have a plan?"

Rider nodded before looking down at the boy, "I was merely making an observation, boy. And now that we're ready-"

Saber's eyes widened as she felt a shift in the air. A whirlwind picked up that almost instinctively made her shield her face, but she knew now that the source of this torrent of wind came from the Rider Servant beside her.

_Plink plink plink plink!_

Seemingly small anomalies bounced off the King of Knight's armor as she looked down for merely a fraction of a second, hair sized dots seemed to gather around her pristine garb. Was this… sand?

Rider swung his sword cleanly through the air, "COME FORTH, MY ARMY!"

Suddenly, everything went white. Reality itself seemed to erode and crumble as everything inverted and replaced itself. The light was almost blinding, the King of Knights and Waver Velvet closed their eyes for only a mere few seconds.

When they opened their eyes, they saw it.

A mass expanse of sand that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. The sky was blue and cloudless unlike the night she had seen before, like the sea itself rested atop them. Hazy mirages could be seen in the distance as all three watched as their enemies looked about the area, dazed and confused by this new development.

"T-this is-"

"A Reality Marble..!" Waver's voice shuddered, eyes blinking several times. The young magus could barely even comprehend what he was seeing, "But… that's impossible, y-you're not a-"

"Indeed, I am not," Rider was now standing, the chariot gone as all three stood about the endless dunes, "This is not something I could accomplish on my own."

Then they appeared. Those mirages in the desert shifted and wavered, spirits given flesh and life as they stepped into existence. One became two, two became four, four became eight. Again and again until thousands stood behind the King of Conquerors.

Saber could barely comprehend what she was seeing.

"Their bodies may return to ash, but their spirits still hear my call! These men are my legendary heroes- my loyal followers! They're my true friends- breaking the rules of space and time to fight once more at my side," Rider raised his spatha, a horse materialized itself before him. He ran a hand across its mane before climbing upon it.

Bucephalus, the noble steed of King Alexander the Great.

"_**Ionioi Hetairoi!"**_ his voice thundered across the desert at the declaration of his Noble Phantasm, before his army's cries followed up. In time, their voices all became one, every single one of them a heroic spirit that stood alongside their king.

"SABER!" the girl looked up at Rider, seeing the fierce grin upon his face, "My men shall provide their support. How long will it take to use your Noble Phantasm?"

Her arm was still in the process of healing, but she could use it without trouble. The only issue was the build up of mana that would need to be provided… as well as what came after, "Merely a few seconds without hindrance."

Rider hummed at that, "I will tell my soldiers to part ways in order to allow your blade to cleave through these beasts. Without them, this desert will collapse shortly."

He turned towards the approaching horde of demons, poised and ready as he pointed his blade towards them. With a single word, he and his army each charged into the fight, "AAAAALALALALALALALAA-"

Saber watched as he disappeared into the expanse. The high-pitched screech of demons echoes across the desert as they clashed against the army of Iskandar. The King of Knights stood atop the sand.

Waver watched from his own part of the dunes as the Servant of the Sword raised her blade, the wind departed, revealing a brightly shimmering sword that glowed like a star across the endless sandy sea.

It looked as though it was rivaling the sun itself.

The diminutive young man watched as the storm of soldiers surrounded, charging forth like a pride of lions. They knew not her rule nor her identity, but they saw that she was an ally of their king. As such, she was someone to be trusted for now.

The demons in the distance tore their enemies to shreds with razor sharp claws, mundane weapons held aloft by the weaker Heroic Spirits did little but graze their dark violet skin.

Rider growled impatiently. How much time did Saber need?!

Light continued to shine forth from the holy blade, the Sword of Promised Victory was in full view for anyone and everyone that dared to gaze upon its radiance. Iskandar looked back as a storm of sand swept across his army, the light poured out from the sun as the King's eyes widened.

"Men, fall back!" he cried out, pulling back the reins of Bucephalus. In that single order, they broke off from the demons' horde and disengaged. The sea of soldiers parted like the river of the Old Testament, with Saber appearing like Moses himself.

She opened her eyes, the fierce and determined look in those green pools telling all who saw her that the True Name of her Noble Phantasm would finally be unleashed. The air above her burst into that radiant glow of light, an awe-inspiring pillar that bewildered even the men of Rider.

"_**EX-"**_

The men finally diverged, the vacuous demons could do nothing but witness their own demise before them.

"_**-CALIBUR!" **_

The very air exploded as that pillar shot forth. Pure light streamed with that mystical force only few knew to be true. Rider and Waver watched from their own corner of the Ionioi Hetairoi as the light engulfed the remaining horde.

The crystallized ideals of both kings within one another, a contradiction that many would deem impossible. But through the powers of the Holy Grail, the camaraderie of Iskandar, and the ideals of Arturia Pendragon, all thoughts against such acts had been forsaken.

The light remained for only a while before finally coming to a still. The exuberance of Iskandar's men shouting victory echoes through Saber's mind as reality crumbled and was replaced by the stillness of the night.

Her ideals had been brought forth, the shouldering of every soldier that died fell upon her. And yet…

"That will do for now, Saber," Rider's voice was low and solemn, "The safety of the survivors of this attack has been assured, and I thank you. However, my thoughts on your ideals have not changed."

Even now, the rule of the King of Knights fell on deaf ears.

"Go," was all she said.

Gordius Wheel appeared once more. Waver gazed back at the girl for only a moment before stepping forth onto the chariot. A crackle of lightning and they both disappeared into the night.

Saber could barely stand, the entire night spent fighting as her mana had been sapped from her, from those demons and the use of Excalibur. Her armor dispersed and she was left in that black suit of hers.

And yet, she still began to walk. Head held high and holy, the legend of King Arthur still keeping her pride.

**-oOo-**

"_Time Alter: Triple Accel!_" An aria followed by the sound of rapid gunfire, his opponent responded in turn with a throw of his Black Keys. Kiritsugu Emiya barely managed to dodge each blade as dilated time continued to crawl.

All four managed to appear before a single second had passed and each one had missed by a hair's width.

The blades embedded themselves within a nearby lamppost behind the Magus Killer as he rolled to his feet, the combined force of each once sliced it to pieces as the Executor continued his charge, several more Black Keys appearing in his hand.

Bullets bounced off Kotomine's frock, arms splayed out in an X-formation as his face was shielded by the armor reinforcing his clothes.

Emiya's eyes widened by the man narrowing the gap so quickly. The church's heretic hunter seemed more machine than man, contrasting with the Magus Killer that tried to be that steel-minded savior to stand in his way.

The signature weapons of Kirei Kotomine shot forth before his adversary dove to the right, narrowly avoiding another blow before disengaging once more, diving some feet back before several more gunshots sounded off from Kirei's right, barely catching the sight from his peripherals before he raised his arm to defend himself.

A mere nuisance Maiya Hisau was to the Executor.

Nine millimeter Parabellum rounds bounced off his vestments, barely registering to Kirei's mind as he dealt with Emiya's pet.

The black-garbed woman inhaled sharply as Kirei appeared right before her eyes. The familiar glint of three silver blade in his right hand swiped and nicked her across the side before she could fully dodge. Pain flared up that wound as she gritted her teeth.

Indeed, Maiya Hisau was a nuisance to the Executor, but an annoyance was all Kiritsugu needed to formulate a plan. She was a nameless apprentice aside from what moniker her savior had given the girl, so it was no surprise that she would leap into the flames of hell at his command.

Kiritsugu Emiya was without Avalon's regenerative properties or Irisviel's talent in healing magecraft, and already his body was overheated from the extended use of his Innate Time Control. The Magus Killer couldn't afford to waste energy, he needed every tool to win this battle.

That was where Maiya came in.

The woman fought with an outright refusal to die. A knife was suddenly in her hands as she tossed aside the empty gun, swinging in a wide arc aimed for the priest's throat. The blade clashed with the Executor's blades before skidding off with a loud whine and crackle of sparks as Maiya closed the gap between them.

Kirei grimaced at her actions, noting how similar they were when they fought the last time. But the man had no time to play games with an underling.

Cutting off his magic circuits, the blades on his Keys disappeared as their source of mana left them, leaving the woman open for another attack as her center of gravity suddenly betrayed her.

Kirei responded with a knee strike to her solar plexus. Listening to the sound of her lower ribs cracking from the sheer force and delighting himself on her cries of pain. Without hesitation, he finished her off with driving the blades in his other hand into her back, pinning her to the ground.

"Gah!" a mix of blood and saliva spat from her throat as the strength in her legs began to fade. Maiya crumpled to the ground with a dull thump as Kirei turned his attention to…

Wait.

Lances of pain shot up the man's leg as he realized what the woman had just done to him, seeing the second dagger that she managed to sneak into her other hand now impaled in his leg.

The woman had used his own strength against him before she fell. Damn.

Rapid footsteps caused Kirei's head to turn once more before raising his arm to protect his face, a hail of bullets thundering across the armored limb as his foe started to grow closer. The priest readied his Black Keys, listening to the sound of gunfire racing across his ears as he tried to pinpoint the man's location.

Kiritsugu Emiya's body was already at its limits from a single use of Innate Time Control. Triple Accel had torn apart his internal structure to a point where his body could barely even be registered as human. And yet he pushed himself beyond those limits.

Every breath in his lungs burned, the feeling of molten tar filled the voids in his muscles as his legs continued to move of their own volition. The desire to survive against his enemy contradicted the need to survive from his own self-inflicted wounds.

Emiya's body screamed for recovery and yet his mind forced him otherwise.

His eyes flickered to a speeding flash of silver, quickly ducking to the ground as whistling passed by his ear before a loud crash finalized that action. He didn't need to look back to know that three more Black Keys had embedded themselves into the glass pane of a nearby building.

Kiritsugu rolled back to his feet once more, avoiding yet another blow as the Executor punched a crater into the pavement where the Magus Killer had once been. He tossed aside the Calico once in his hand, now out of ammunition within the weapon or on his person, the man needed to think on his feet and fast.

His body frayed and the priest was merely with a leg wound that only served as a minor hindrance if he were to ignore the pain. Of course, the blade would only serve to cause more damage if Kotomine dared to move too much, and yet it was the only thing keeping him from bleeding out profusely.

The weight of Kiritsugu's Thompson Contender felt heavy in his jacket, the urge to pull the weapon out and fire was great, but he couldn't afford to use it.

_'Fuck.' _He thought.

He needed an opening, something that could allow him the advantage to come out on top of this battle. He predicted that it would only be a matter of seconds before his enemy closed the gap separating them.

Everything hurt. Every nerve burned as his body was composed of a multiple wounds and frayed blood vessels. And yet he still needed to act, to get at least one final move on the board before he could have a chance at victory.

Both men assessed each others' strengths and weaknesses, their methods of fighting and the exploitation of whatever flaws they might possess, physical or otherwise. Kirei Kotomine was an executor of the Holy Church, a skilled murderer of heretics that favored the sacramental blades yet possessed both the skill of Bajiquan and the disposition for inheriting magic circuits to fight in those close quarters battles.

In the blink of an eye, he could kill a normal man if he so simply wished for it. A reinforced fist honed by years of training could demolish a heart as easily as tearing apart wet paper; Black Keys could be thrown from a distance, capable of piercing flesh and impaling shadows where they lied.

But Kiritsugu Emiya was no normal man. The Magus Killer was the subject of the priest's obsession for so long, he simply wouldn't allow such a man to die needlessly. If Emiya had the will to survive and seek that wish for the Grail, perhaps a broken man like Kotomine would be able to find the answers.

No words were exchanged, the Magus Killer watched as the holy man kicked off with his left undamaged leg, severing that gap between them in almost an instant. The space of a meter would be enough for Kirei to finally down his rival.

A single second, Kirei Kotomine would strike with those Black Keys before his feet touched the ground, anything after would create fault that the Master of Saber could exploit. The attack would leave a fatal wound that would surely kill Kiritsugu, but enough for the priest to get what he wanted from him.

It was already too late, the magus killer would most surely die. He closed his eyes, shielding his face in a futile effort to protect himself as he awaited death.

_**Crunch.**_

His eyes opened, lowering his arms at the pitter-patters of blood dripping down steel and splashing against the pavement as a blade found itself taking another life.

Kiritsugu Emiya had sought the desire to live at any cost, his wish would be granted no matter the means. A pragmatic man down to the very soul, so it shouldn't be said that a command to save his life would not go unheard.

Even from the King of Knights.

The Magus Killer watched as his Servant found herself standing between them, sword now buried within the heart of his most feared foe. He blinked, a dull red glow emanating from his hand caught his attention.

Two Command Seals remained on him.

Kiritsugu didn't intend to use such a limited tool for this purpose, but his heart knew that the circumstances put before him were necessary.

He fought back the urge to grimace at this revelation as Saber withdrew the blade from the priest's chest, his heart destroyed and his life now forfeited to the threads that was fate in that instant.

The priest now lay within a pool of his own blood, which only grew in size and volume as the command spells on his hand disappeared. His only regret being the nature of his own wickedness that he would never truly know before finally passing away.

Another monster had disappeared from this Earth with no one the wiser… or anyone to bury it.

Passing by the Heroic Spirit like she was a ghost, Kiritsugu knelt down to the body of Maiya Hisau, turning her over onto her back to check her condition. Fingers placed upon her neck had told him that she bore no pulse, she had already died… likely seconds after the death of Kotomine.

He didn't notice the landscape of the city shifting back to its original state, the corrected world now devoid of demonic beasts… nor the dead man just a stone's throw away.

"Where's Irisviel?"

"..."

The silence told him everything.

**-oOo-**

'_Protect the Grail,'_ his instincts told him. For whatever reasons his instinct had told him, he obeyed even without knowledge.

The scourge of demons had finally passed, but the night was still young.

**BANG!**

Another bullet crackled like lightning as it tore through the battered shadowy form of Assassin, puncturing his other leg as both he and Irisviel continued to run. Pain seared through his muscles as he pulled the woman into a bridal carry, shielding her from any and all harm.

Irisviel was afraid and confused by the situation. Fearing for both herself and Kiritsugu, the unknowing dread of whether he had survived the night or not, and confused by this contradictory savior of hers.

Assassin was supposed to be her enemy, and yet he continued to go beyond these expectations and shield the Einzbern woman with his own flesh.

Another bullet whizzed by, then another, one narrowly avoided by the Servant while the other ricocheted off his helmet, leaving a small crack on the glassy covering. Irisviel couldn't get a bead on who he was even protecting her from. The first time she attempted it, the Servant had shielded her face from another bullet with his own hand, severing two of his fingers meant for her face and only resulting in a small graze on her ear in the process.

Irisviel had seen every other Servant so far, the one attacking them had to be Caster from that fact alone. His class bore no resistance to magecraft and thus made him vulnerable to even an ill-fit fighter like a Caster, especially from such a distance where a man such as him could excel.

Three more bullets thundered across the city as Assassin ducked and avoided all three, blood spurted out his legs as his muscles tensed and coiled, like a wet rag being wrung of water. Irisviel managed to offer the man another incantation of her own magecraft, soothing only a fraction of his pain before he had a chance to stumble and fall.

The night had fallen still, the haze of hell had quickly passed over as soon as those beasts disappeared, leaving only a battlefield for Servants to fight upon once again.

But Assassin, his movements were frantic. Despite the clear mind of avoiding those shots, his head would often twitch within certain directions. Irisviel didn't notice this at first until he had finally guaranteed her safety a hundredfold.

He was looking for something. Or rather some_one_. And considering the subject of his protection in his arms, it wasn't too hard for the homunculus to figure out.

But… why?

There was a slight stumble in his step as he threw his arms out, the albino woman flew out of his arms as more bullets spat forth from the unknown shooter. Irisviel caught herself in time to stumble into a dark alleyway, watching as the bullets continue to tear him apart.

Four shots to the chest and another hit him square in the head. The bullet bit deep, piercing the hard casing that protected Assassin as he began to fall, arms angel-spread.

The woman's eyes widened, the entire event playing out in slow motion.

Without even thinking, Irisviel took hold of his arm, hidden by the cover of the alley, and pulled him inside. The momentum pushed him off his feet, but the loss of stability only made the action easier.

'_God, he's heavy!'_ she exclaimed, her frail body barely able to lift him up, much less drag him. Focusing the od within her, she reinforced her body, her circuits flaring throughout her as she just barely managed to get ahold of him.

His body refused to fade away, that meant he still lived. And Irisviel wouldn't stand by without at least returning the favor to someone who placed himself in harm's way simply for her sake.

The alleyway ended at a chainlink fence, trapping the two like rats. Irisviel frowned at the revelation, if only she had her Mystic Code, she'd be able to slice through the fence like it was nothing.

"Ugh…" a weak groan came forth from the Servant's lips, perhaps the first sound that Iri even heard from his mouth. Despite wearing that cracked and battered helmet, she could tell that he was staring directly at her.

"I…" he tried to speak before doubling over, a wet cough emitting from his throat before viscous globs of blood began to trickle out of the cracks in his faceplate.

"Don't try to talk," she kneeled down and tried to soothe his pain in whatever way she could, her mana reserves already low from the night's events, "You're too wounded… don't try to move."

The pale woman suddenly froze as something pressed itself against her cheek. Her eyes trailing up the man's right arm told her it was his palm. What was he doing?

"I…" he spoke again, blatantly ignoring her advice, his voice coming out in weak rasps, "Ris… viel…"

She blinked in surprise, "How do you know my name?"

Irisviel wouldn't have been surprised if he had simply called her Einzbern, but the use of her first name had only created concern and bafflement.

Assassin paused before his helmet began to glow. He was already on the verge of death, and with his Master, his anchor to the world, dead, such was the course of his luck. Dying was a sure inevitability… but right now, he didn't care.

The woman's eyes widened as the mask disappeared, hands covering her mouth as the curtains unfolded. His face was covered in bruises, his skin was too pale even compared to her, and a bullet jutted halfway out the center of his skull.

But even then, Thom's face was recognizable as ever. And he was… smiling?

Unlike the empty eyes that contrasted with that mischievous grin, his expression now even amidst the pain he had felt, was content. Even he didn't know why he felt so content, perhaps he managed to fulfill his mission of protecting others. It was his duty as a Spartan, after all.

But alas… fate was cruel.

Slow and methodical steps played out before their ears. Irisviel didn't dare turn around, fearing the answer that she already knew. She closed her eyes, muttering to herself as whatever within her remained to cast a spell finally left her. Her body glowed for merely a second as she placed her hands against his chest and leaned in close.

"Find Kiritsugu, give this to him… please," were the final words he heard from her before she was violently pulled away.

A young white-haired man in his twenties, dressed in antique attire. In his hands was Irisviel Von Einzbern, fingers clasped around her frail neck.

Caster.

"Interesting… quite interesting," he cackled to himself, ignoring the woman's attempts to break free, "So the tin man _does_ possess a heart. "

Assassin was unable to move or speak, he was too weak to do so. All he could do was glare.

"Oh don't give me that look," Caster rolled his eyes, "It was_ your_ fault for getting too attached to your own targets. Truly, is your heart so weak to play turncoat from only so few visits I could list them off on a single hand?"

Thom still remained silent.

"Hmph, you're no fun if all you can do is flare your nostrils at me," the man shook his head before turning back to the woman, "'Tis a shame, I couldn't truly sway your Master to eliminate Tohsaka for me, such an obsession with that dull Magus Killer. But you know what they say, _'If you want something done right-' _well, you know how it goes."

Still nothing.

"If all you're going to do is let me talk, I might as well get to the point," Caster's attention was on him, despite looking at the woman, "You've disappointed me so many times, I was truly expecting a challenger close to the man I knew in life. But you're such an inconsistent man, a cold killer dressing up in the form of normality, and suddenly the tables turn! First with my dolls and golems, then with Diarmuid, and finally with Lancelot… that's Berserker by the way."

The Spartan didn't care.

"I was truly expecting you would go after me amidst _From Hell_, but your heart lied elsewhere, this little… _puppet,_" there was a stark contrast between Caster running a hand through the woman's hair and spitting that word like it was poison, "I realized your priorities were skewed. You are Assassin, the killer of men, and you've only succeeded in few areas. I am a criminal-"

His hand joined his other around the woman's throat. Even then she continued to struggle.

"I am the Napoleon of Crime" he uttered his title, not caring in the slightest as the mad Caster's rage continued to seethe. He finally closed his eyes, his anger lapsing and a gentle smile took his face, "And if I want something done right-"

His hands squeezed.

**Snap!**

_...Thump…_

"-I'll do it myself," he stared down at the limp puppet now splayed about the filthy cement ground, brushing a stray hair out of the way. Caster, James Moriarty, looked back up to see a splendid sight before his eyes.

Muscles tense, eyes widened, the Spartan looked down at the body with shock writ upon his face. His mind blanked, unable to register what even happened in that single instant.

Without enough mana to heal his injuries, he'd be unable to move or even fight. Caster shook his head, if he couldn't match wits with this man… he'd might as well get one last petty victory.

He'd leave Assassin to die alone, killing him now would simply be a mercy. Better to leave him be and die here before he realizes the nature of these feelings he didn't know he developed. Moriarty picked up the corpse, gently carrying the body in his arms like a newborn. Even being dead, she was still the Grail's vessel, and he had _big_ plans for those.

"I have business to attend to now. Do be a good boy and die for me, Assassin. Ta~" the man disappeared 'round the corner, carrying the body to wherever his plans may lie.

Leaving only Assassin to die alone once more.

His fists clenched and relaxed, head bent down and gazing down at the wounds that littered his body.

Damn it.

Damn it damn it damn it damn it, _damn it all!_

He couldn't think. It hurt too much to. His eyes stung with salt as that same dampness trickled down his face, forming amidst the dried blood pouring from his lips.

The Spartan remembered the look on Irisviel's corpse. His mind flashbacked to old yet recent memories still fresh on his mind, his reason for fighting.

Kat, Jorge, Carter, Emile, perhaps even Jun. The sacrifices of NOBLE Team had given him resolve to keep moving forth, his reason to keep fighting.

It was like that all over again. This stripped him of his reason, his will lost and buried.

This was a familiar feeling… his lungs had filled up with blood, his body riddled with holes, and dying alone. From this perspective, Earth was no different from Reach.

He closed his eyes, deciding to fall unconscious before the Throne would have a chance to take him back.

'_I… I don't want that,'_ the Spartan thought to himself. His original wish from the Grail pushed aside for simply another chance… another chance to… to..

Noble Six swallowed, the thawed heart in his chest had frozen over once more as he was greeted with unconsciousness. His mind turned to steel yet again as it did before when he first became a Spartan, unaware that his wounds were miraculously beginning to mend.

_Another chance to kill Caster. _


	11. Chapter 11: Retaliation Whiplash

Night passed and daybreak followed. Demigod and soldier alike stood upon the rooftops of a building, likely an apartment block, as they overlooked the scenery that surrounded them. The once-hellish landscape disappeared and the city returned to its original self, yet the bodies of the victims still remained.

Bodies by the hundreds littered themselves throughout Fuyuki, all of which died in cruel and unusual fashions, each one worse and different than the last. Paste formed from the crushed and rotting organs of innocents coated the streets like a macabre pastel painting.

All of it was the work of Caster. Both Servants had suddenly felt the urge to _thank_ him for showing them such a wonderful night.

And what better way to show their gratitude than with a nocked arrow to the skull or a dagger to the spine?

"Our Masters are dead," the demigod finally spoke, having found the Servant of the late Kirei Kotomine unconscious in a nearby ditch. Having regained his senses, Assassin had awakened to hear these words from the Archer, "As is the Mediator."

"Yeah," was all the armored Servant had told him, "It seems they are."

A rather expected nonreaction that Archer had seen time and time again from Assassin. But there was a certain air about him the way he said it now. His interactions with the self-proclaimed Spartan had him come off as contemplative, like he was perpetually in a state of existential dread, but now he seemed… resolute.

Assassin found a new purpose to cling to. However, those eyes were empty and focused, cold and rough as iron. Whatever he learned had hardened him back into a state of withdrawal that he had once been accustomed to in that old past of his.

This concerned Archer.

The Spartan's armor and undersuit had been dispelled, leaving him in the same clothes he wore when they last met. His wounds had miraculously healed despite his mana reserves practically being dried out,

"What will you do now?" the demigod queried, stony visage unchanged as he stared down at his temporary ally without judgment, "Despite my Master being dead as well, I can still remain on the material plane for at most another week if I conserve my mana."

Independent Action, a key trait of the Archer class. And in some cases, depending on the nature of that Servant, this can even extend to other classes.

He then raised a hand towards his ally, "You, however, can't fight anyone in the condition you're in. But from what I've seen so far, you're the most knowledgeable on Caster."

Assassin looked back down, staring at the surface of the rooftops as his hands clenched into fists, "Even with Kirei dead, I can still stay manifested until the end of tomorrow night, maybe even until midnight at the very least. I'll look for a new Master before the deadline."

He turned away, just about to take to spirit form and go off searching, "Something troubles you, Assassin?"

Noble Six paused mid-step, his body going still for only a second. Archer didn't hear him sigh, but his shoulders slowly rising and falling was enough for him to gauge the man's mood, "What do you mean?"

"Answer my question first," Archer crossed his arms, giving the Servant a disappointed look, "Don't simply answer a question with another question."

"It's none of your concern, Archer."

"You're right, it's not. Perhaps I'm simply curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," Assassin jabbed at the Servant.

Archer shrugged, "Satisfaction brought it back."

Assassin sighed, looking back at the opposing giant standing before him, "You're incorrigible."

"Of course I'm incorrigible, I'm a Servant," Archer shook his head, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of his own before finally looking down at his ally again, "There was a woman I befriended on my journey, a fierce woman who would've definitely taken my place as Archer had she been summoned instead. She held a deep regard for children, so much so that she would kill anyone who dared to hurt even a single hair on their head."

"Is this some kind of elaborate way of telling me your identity?" the Spartan queried boredly, his voice still cold and emotionless, "Because the answer was pretty obvious ever since you stuck an arrow in my eye."

"I'm simply passing on some advice from one legend to another, however distant yours may be doesn't matter," he replied, blatantly ignoring the snark, "You've found a purpose, much like she did… but I ask of you not to let it consume you, lest you'll end up like Berserker."

'_Lancelot…'_ the name echoed in both of their minds without either one's knowledge.

Archer brushed past him without resistance, intent on letting the Spartan think on his advice. Assassin's eyes flickered down as he began to contemplate the words of the demigod.

"What happened to your friend?" he asked.

"..." Archer went silent, until, "...Her purpose consumed her, and she passed away from this world without a shred of happiness."

Assassin listened to the man chuckle bitterly to himself, "That seems to be a common trend for you… true heroes, I mean."

"Perhaps, what is the story of a hero if not a tragedy?" Archer hummed, not expecting an answer from Assassin, so he simply moved on, "Regardless, I still intend on settling that deal with Rider. I trust that you and Saber can keep Caster company while I attend to business."

"I make no promises."

"Hah!" Archer barked a Rider-esque laugh, "Someday you will, Assassin."

The Spartan watched as the former Servant of Tohsaka disappeared in a haze of mana, his final words echoing through the wind.

"_Someday you will…'_

Assassin peered off into the distance, watching the sun continue its rise over the city before he too disappeared. It was quite a comforting sight even for the Spartan amidst the death and decay that perverted the night, but he didn't have long to live in this state to enjoy the sights.

He needed a Master, anyone that could allow him to fight once more.

Fortunately for him, there was someone that he had unintentionally spared in a previous fight.

Unfortunately, however, he wasn't sure if he was still alive from the condition he was in.

'_Just great…'_

**-oOo-**

Kariya Matou's luck was never known for being the best, especially within the last few days.

Pain rippled through the makeshift magus' body as he continued shambling through the dark alleyways of the city, the sky dulling to a dim orange as the sun began to set. The man tended to avoid the sunlight as much as possible, the worms underneath his skin weren't exactly particular to exposure.

In the span of a single night, his Servant was dead, his body had nearly been eaten away by the parasites running through his body, and was saved by the same man he tried to kill, only to be brought back to the hellish pit that his "grandfather's" training grounds and thrown out to rot a day later.

He didn't think it could get any worse, but the command seals on his hand refused to fade away. The Grail still wanted him to fight, and with the overflowing mana of… one worm in particular, he had been thrown out of the mansion once more and forced to fight yet again.

_Shing!_

A dagger stuck out from the wall, narrowly missing him as he came to a sudden stop. Looking down the alleyway that split off to another route midway, Kariya saw a dark figure lowering his arm back to his side.

"You… missed," Kariya wheezed through pained breaths, barely even able to speak as the man approached. He was dressed in dark baggy clothes, both of which being a ratty pair of dark blue jeans and a black jacket, both of which were damp and stained with mud.

It was as though Death itself came to greet him. The Matou didn't care, he was a dead man walking anyway.

"If I aimed eight more centimeters to the right, I would've skewered and pinned your skull to the wall," the man merely said, still approaching without hesitation, even as those maddened insects began to break forth from Kariya's skin, buzzing about with ravenous hunger, "I could've killed you in many unique and painful ways from this distance alone, but… the truth is that I need your help."

Kariya's only functioning eye glared at this claim, not recognizing the taller man standing just two meters away, "I don't have anything you need."

"Maybe, maybe not," the man shrugged, those cold and dark eyes locking with his, "You might not recognize me, but I believe these might seem familiar."

A flash of his hand and three T-shaped objects appeared between his fingers. Black Keys, weapons of the Church, belonging to only one man in particular.

"You-" Kariya was just about to give the order to attack before suddenly stopping, "You're not that priest."

"My Master is dead," the man sheathed the weapons as quickly as he pulled them out, hiding them in some undisclosed location among his attire, "As is Archer's."

"Archer's… you mean Tokiomi?" Kariya's breath caught in his throat, "You're telling me he's fucking dead!?"

The man nodded, begrudgingly waiting patiently as he listened to Kariya's hacking wet coughs, barely able to remain standing and having to use the wall as support before realizing the Matou was laughing.

Seconds later, the hacking had ceased, if ever so slowly.

"Are you done?" the man boredly asked, "My offer to help you still stands, even now."

"I don't care how he went out, him gone is all that matters, what could you possibly offer me now with that piece of shit dead?" Kariya spat, the buzzing of insects grew louder as the sun continued setting, "I know now that you're a Servant, but you have nothing for me."

"The Grail," was all the Servant said, watching the man fell silent, looking down at the blood-red marks on his hand, "You still have a wish, lying to me won't work."

Kariya Matou was a pitiful sight to see, his lifespan shortened to enough days to count on a single hand. But even then, amidst his completed revenge at the hands of another, there was still a glint of fire in that eye of his.

The buzzing of insects died down as the taller man continued, "You still have your Command Seals, despite no longer having a Servant. The Grail still calls for you, and I still live."

Defiance will get this sad wretch of a man nowhere, even with part of his body and brain already eaten away by those Crest worms. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the opportunity had finally presented itself.

"My wish?" he sighed, the faux smugness in his voice faded away, a low quiet whisper that the Servant was able to make out nevertheless, "There's... a mansion, somewhere in Fuyuki. Inside, is a little girl. The master of the household, my… _grandfather_, keeps here there, letting these _**things-**_"

He motioned to the aberration surrounding him, "-these things violate her body, just to turn her into his _fucking _pawn for another Grail War. But… so long as I can bring the Grail to him, he'll promise to let her go once it's in his hands."

Kariya watched as the Servant pondered his words, taking only a few steps closer and reaching forth. His heart skipped a beat, terror took him for only a second before the man pulled the blade out from the wall, wiping the stagnant mix of water and filth off the blade with his own sleeve before sheathing it away.

"Consider it done," was all he said, holding out his hand, "When the War is over, I will ensure that she is delivered safely."

The Matou expected something more grandiose, a set of rules or conditions that something more articulate than his last Servant could never conduct. Those words told him that this Servant was not simply a hero, and yet he spoke as one all the same.

That was fine by him.

Kariya blinked, thinking to himself before holding up his only functioning hand, his final command seal glowing dimly. He spoke through clenched teeth, "My will creates your body… and your sword... creates my destiny…"

There will be pain. Suffering. Those worms would eat him alive yet again.

"If you heed the Grail's call… and obey my will and reason… argh!" Kariya cried out, the worms began their devourment anew, chewing apart his body and feeding off of his pain for sustenance. He still held firm, taking fate into his own hands, "-T-then answer me… Do so and I w-will entrust my destiny to your sword."

"I, Servant Assassin, summoned forth from the call of Grail, accept your oath-," words were unnatural to him and just as unnecessary, but they flowed forth like water down a riverbed, "-and your dominion as my Master… Kariya Matou."

The bond was made and the link was forged, the remaining Command seal in Kariya's hand replenished, all three now appeared once more in his hand. The Servant watched as the man slumped over, wheezing to himself in pain as the worms continued their act of defilement. Kariya hissed at the sensation, but it was a mere nuisance compared to the output of Berserker.

"Assassin… huh?" Kariya managed to sputter out, "Figures that fate… wouldn't make it easy."

"Tsk," the Servant clicked his tongue, ignoring the… _humbling _critique of his class, "Your first order, Master?"

Kariya strained to lift his head, looking up at his new Servant, seeing his form look much more revitalized by the mana flowing into his body, "Win the War, bring me the Grail… by whatever means necessary."

The sun had finally set. The Servant looked up to see glowing orbs shooting up in the distance. It was a call for battle, Archer beckoning for Rider to come his way.

No more playing scout or gathering information for the sake of another's obsession. He'll eliminate every other Servant that stands in his way, even…

The Servant shook his head, reiterating his objective, _'Win the war and get the Grail… yeah, I can work with that.'_

Assassin disappeared, taking to spirit form to gather his tools for the next attack. Night would come, that would be the best time to strike. No one, be they Servant or Master, would stand in his way.

He'll start with Caster.

**-oOo-**

The sound of buzzing was familiar to Caster's ears. With a grin crossing his face, the British Servant gently placed the book in his hands down onto the altar, turning around to be greeted by a friendly face, "I see you got my invitation, Zouken."

"I wouldn't normally leave the comfort of my own home," the voice was crackled and disjointed similarly to television static, "But I will make an exception for you, old friend."

The magus was still in the process of taking form. The conglomeration of insects scuttling about into a mass barely the height of an average man before shifting and mimicking flesh and sensory organs.

He stepped forth from the pile, staring past the Servant and to the body lying still on the makeshift ritual table behind him. Those wicked dark eyes gazed back up at the young criminal, "The vessel for the Grail… so I see you decided to take my advice."

"Indeed," Caster turned back around, placing a hand almost lovingly against her cheek, "Is she as beautiful as the day you saw her, dear Zouken?"

"Hmph," Zouken snorted, shaking his head as he looked down at the corpse, "There's nothing beautiful about playing with dolls, Caster."

"That would surely explain Sakura."

"...Kariya, I presume?" Zouken squinted his eyes in concern.

"Indeed, he was under the impression that I would end up killing you if I helped save her," Caster explained, "Tsk tsk, very poor sense of judgment even if he didn't know I was well-acquainted with his lineage."

"A fool," the old man nodded, "But one that doesn't fail to entertain me."

The Servant paused at his words, "_Doesn't,_ you say? Do humor me, my friend, you actually didn't kill him, did you?"

"I see no point in doing so, he's my grandchild after all," Zouken boredly answered, before shooting the man a look, "I'm _not _getting sentimental, Caster. He made that rash decision of taking part in the Grail War of his own accord, and that choice will eventually end up killing him."

The Servant hummed to himself, _'And that reason being the girl… I see…'_

"As you say, Matou," Caster responded curtly without a second to spare, turning back to the Grail's vessel with a grimace, "Damn this, what's the point of this Noble Phantasm if I'm unable to access half of my own collection?!"

"What appears to be the issue?" Zouken queried, his interest piqued by the sudden mention.

Caster looked back down at the book seated beside the dead Einzbern, the title labeled _Maxwell_ at the bottom, "It's nothing, merely a nuisance coming from my vault of knowledge," he tapped the leather cover with an index finger, "The Holy Grail's conception requires the death of six Servants to activate, I'm merely looking for a way to bypass and kickstart the process early."

Zouken's eyes widened slightly at the answer, doing his best not to let his jaw simply flap open, "Is such a thing even possible?"

"I had assumed so, there exists a work within my memory that can supply the Grail with nearly an infinite amount of energy. A perpetual motion machine running purely on mana that could possibly even punch a hole straight to the Akashic Records… or the Root, I believe you magi call it."

Caster traced a finger along the book, smirking to himself.

"And why hasn't this been done?" Zouken's voice almost sounded jubilant from the revelation of such an ability.

The Root of all things, the endless search for knowledge that ever magus was familiar with. Even someone so far gone as Zouken Matou had sought it out once upon a time. He was disappointed that the rest of the Grail's founding families hadn't lived to see this opportunity arise.

Well, _almost_ disappointed.

He watched as the Servant waved a hand across the book, seeing it disappear like wiping away a chalkboard, "As I said, the process is only theoretical… and I don't possess the mana to do it myself. Hah, even in a new life, the final step always seems to slip out of my grasp, especially with the rest of the Servants hot on my trail."

The old magus frowned, "Does your Master not provide you the mana to use your abilities? Or what about simply taking the energy from the rest of the populace?"

"It's not simply a matter of quantity, but also quality. I would need power that existed within the Age of Gods or at least something that could break the conditions of an unsolved theory, what I currently possess is a mere iota of what needs to be set in motion," he laughed, "It's ironic, a theoretical machine steeped purely in the realm of science that still needs to be resolved with the use of magic."

"Hmph, so I assume this puts us back at square one?"

The man shook his head, chuckling to himself in what appeared to be… delight?

"Indeed, dear Zouken, if this were the last Grail War," Zouken took a step back as Caster spun around, facing him with a mad grin upon his face, "But, ever since the discovery of our dear fellow Servants' identities, I've been laying the groundwork for such a way to win the Grail for the both of us… but I will need your help, old friend."

Zouken gave the man a look, "And the wish of your own Master?"

Caster closed his eyes and shrugged, "He's merely here for the journey, not the end goal. Ryuunosuke isn't the sort of lad to have a wish that the Grail can grant."

"You would ask me to help you after you've roused a paltry amount of demons to terrorize the city all on your own whims, putting the Holy Grail War and even the Moonlit World at risk?" Zouken's curiosity immediately shifted into grim concern.

"In all fairness, the media had painted it as a terrorist attack using chemical weapons," the mastermind pointed out.

"All because of the Association and the Church have the resources to spin the truth in our favor," Zouken retorted, "Such a breach would not go unpunished… and the current Second Owner is already dead by your hand. You may be an old friend, Caster, but it would be a matter of time before they go after you… and eventually after me were this alliance to be created."

"I'm already on borrowed time, Zouken," Caster looked down at the corpse, then down at the old man, "It would only be a matter of time before the remaining Servants catch up. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain at this point," he held out a hand, "I only ask that you be patient, old friend."

The magus looked at his hand, then at the body on the altar, his face contorting into a myriad of expressions, "And the Grail will be ours?"

"Of course," the Servant nodded, "A centuries-long quest for immortality would not go unrewarded, so long as you work with me."

Part of Zouken's face perked up where an eyebrow should've been.

"And of course, I will make sure that there's no correlation between the both of us," Caster placed a hand to his hip with a sigh and cheeky grin, "Always so careful, you old worm."

The Matou ignored the remark, turning away with a quiet sigh, "I will need... time to consider this."

He disappeared into a mass of insects, leaving the Servant alone with his work.

Nothing more needed to be said, the opportunity was too tempting even for a man as patient as Zouken to pass up. Caster merely smiled, returning to his work.

Another book manifested beside him, an old script bound with aged leather and loose threads barely able to keep it together. The words inside were too old for even him to read, but the name came to his mind as simply as every other action he's taken in this war.

For some reason, this tome resonated with the corpse of the Einzbern, housing the Grail within. This surprised Caster for a variety of different reasons, but the only one that mattered explained one important aspect of the Grail.

Or rather, it reinforced a theory he had on it.

His own Summoning, an anti-hero like him that shouldn't have existed here. If the Grail was programmed in such a way to only summon legitimate heroes that left a significant footnote for an outright beneficial part of history, then he was a contradiction that shouldn't have existed.

It was a pity that he left Assassin to die, there would've been so much more to learn from him too. From his appearance, he bore a much more futuristic appearance that spoke of neither villainy nor heroism. So what exactly was he?

"Hey, Caster!" a familiar voice shouted.

The thundering boom of double doors slamming against their adjacent walls interrupted his thoughts. The Servant turned around to be greeted by a friendly sight, though his pleasant reunion soured to concern, "Ryuunosuke, good of you to join me, but I believe I told you to stay hidden until the War passes over."

"I was," the redhead protested, raising his hands in protest as a dull thump followed suit, "Aw jeez, I was doing as you asked until someone decided to intrude on that Boundary thing you helped me set up."

A strange dark lump fell at the feet of the young serial killer right as he raised his arms, Caster didn't realize it was a body until he noticed the subtle sounds of breathing coming from it.

"One, it's called a boundary field, my dear Ryuunosuke. I'm glad you were able to finalize the construction even with my assistance," he patted the boy on the shoulder, "And two… what is this exactly?"

"I was just about to get to that part," the young man crouched down, picking up the body by the top of his head, "This guy managed to track me down and I think he's a magic-user too, but he used a gun and killed several of those spare Dolls you sent to protect me before I managed to knock him out."

A gun? Wait a moment...

Caster leaned in and got a better look.

"How did you…?" even the Servant was completely baffled by this development, "Ryuunosuke, how the hell did you actually manage to kidnap Kiritsugu Emiya?!"

Not even _he_ expected this… and he was a damn criminal mastermind.

"I mean," Ryuunsouke bashfully scratched at the back of his head, "He was already pretty banged up when I got to him."

Caster shook his head, his smile wide and full of simultaneous wicked and friendly regard for his Master, "Even then, you actually managed to do it. It speaks volumes of your potential, and I feel I must congratulate you, my dear protege."

This was definitely an interesting development, and not an unwelcome one either. Caster had been considering using his Master as a… crash dummy of sorts to see what would truly happen when the Grail manifests itself under the circumstances given.

Of course, he would've marginally hoped for Ryuunosuke to return alive. The Servant wasn't going to let all that potential go to waste, now would he? And with another Master in their grasp, there was no need for such risk.

"In the meantime," Caster pointed to the unconscious body, "Bind him, keep him close to that woman's body in the meantime. Can't have him using those Command seals without risking damaging the Grail in the process."

The Servant let out a sigh as a wave of relief overwhelmed him. Just when things were getting complicated, the solutions would always end up in his lap.

From what he was able to gleam, Saber preferred not to take to Spirit form… or perhaps she couldn't. Either way, her knight's honor would be her downfall, the time it would take for her to get here would be too long. By the time she would already arrive, Archer or Rider would be dead, either was preferable, and the Grail would be in his hands.

A couple minutes had passed and Ryuunosuke had successfully bound the man to a chair, the largely bruised welt just below his temple looked as though it was just about ready to pop. With another word, Ryuunosuke left at his order without complaint, promised to see a spectacle the likes of which he'd never seen.

The body of the Grail's vessel glowed, disappearing before a smaller and more worthy prize was held suspended in the center of the room. Caster smiled as an inky muck began to spill forth, melting the ground beneath it and dripping down like a pouring faucet into the chasm below.

So the victor between Archer and Rider has been decided.

Now all he needed to do was sit and wait. The rest of the Servants would kill each other off in the process and the Grail will finally manifest after another death or two. First he needed to make a phone call and… hold on.

Caster slowly walked over to the man bound, leaning in closely as a brush of movement caught his eye.

"I know you're awake, don't bother hiding it."

A moment later, the Magus Killer's eyes opened.

**-oOo-**

Night had reached its peak, Saber had already seen the arrows calling for battle.

"Archer…" she muttered to herself before shaking her head, focusing on the priority at hand. The low roar of the motorcycle continued its grumbling as she sped upon it.

Much to her dismay, her Master had the gall to be captured by the enemy during her search for Irisviel. She was able to get a feel for his location through the link they shared, their tether growing stronger the closer she got. For a moment, the King of Knights slowed down upon her mechanical steed, listening to the thundering groans of a chariot off in the distance before finally coming to a quiet.

Archer and Rider had finally engaged within that Reality Marble of his… and only one would come out alive.

She sped up, continuing on her hunt for Kiritsugu Emiya. Such a battle was not her place to intervene, it was between Servants with a shared history, not even she could interrupt for the sake of either despite their ill words on her behalf.

Why didn't he trust her? It couldn't be anything as simple as her merely being a Servant, such actions taken on a notion like that would be the height of pettiness. Whatever it was, it ran so much deeper for him to ignore her warnings on his own health.

The Magus Killer, Saber scoffed inwardly at the title, had already been in terrible shape after the battle between him and that priest. Internal bleeding, broken bones, and a frayed spirit from the disappearance of Irisviel.

Ah, so that was it.

He was willing to go to any length simply for Irisviel. Whether it was because he truly cared for her or because she was simply the vessel for the Grail was something to query at a later date, but for now, her Master needed her help once more.

Saber had nearly forgotten how vast the city was, weaving throughout the dense concrete forests of automobiles and infrastructure, the simultaneous combination of Riding and Instinct shone through as her ability to read the oncoming traffic was second to none.

The city was surprisingly active, perhaps even the citizens knew deep in their spirits of something that she never could've figured out until now.

The war was coming to a close.

Somehow, deep within herself, there was a nagging feeling. She knew it, perhaps the remaining Servants did as well. Within this single night, they knew that the long awaited time of Heroic Spirits finally doing battle would finally arrive.

Tonight, one Servant will come out of this war with the Grail in hand.

Rider and Archer already took the first step. That left only… Caster. The unseen Servant that dared to only show his face with cowardice and malignance. Butchering men, women, and children by the hundreds.

Saber came to a stop, the tether that tied the fate of both the King of Knights and the Magus Killer was strongest in this building. Not only that, there was another presence.

Caster.

Saber looked within herself, within the spiritual core that anchored her body to the world. The flow of mana from her Master didn't change, Caster was keeping him alive for some reason.

For what reason though?

Scouring the entrances of the building, the only way most direct was by a tunnel leading into a wider space. If she remembered correctly, it was something Irisviel had called a "parking garage".

Saber frowned, undoubtedly uneased by what lay within. Not because of the potential for traps of Caster that could be sensed by the residual mana, but rather what wasn't there.

She sensed nothing, only the dense source that lay within the heart of the building. The entirety of the building was built less like a fortress for the Caster and more like an egg. The entire structure could simply fall apart with the use of her Noble Phantasm, killing the opposing Servant in the process, her Master… and her wish upon the Grail.

It was a frustrating scenario, having to play by the rules of another Servant within their own territory… she's dealt with enough frustrating magi in life and yet they continue to haunt her well into the future.

Saber resisted the urge to grind her teeth completely out of frustrating, merely revving the motorcycle and proceeding inside. Her hands were tense, loosely gripping the handles and staying within reach of Excalibur.

It was dark as she proceeded inside, but not a darkness that inconvenienced her. Her eyes were attuned as a Servant, so a simple lack of light within an area did nothing to her… so it was immediate for her to pick out the pair of round objects coming her way.

They were dull grey color, round with a complex mechanism set on top as they bounced along the smooth pavement she rode upon. Had she not been Emiya's Servant, she wouldn't have noticed the nature of these objects upon sight.

She's seen her Master's arsenal before, so Saber knew a hand grenade when she saw one.

Instincts had told her to leap away, and so she did. The thundering roar of an explosive rang throughout the garage, the concussive force of such an object would've deafened a normal man had they been in this enclosed space.

A flash of light and the Saber Servant was in her armor once more. Her sword wreathed once again in Invisible Air as the bent and smouldering parts of her mount lay scattered around the floor of her new battlefield.

Saber's eyes scanned throughout the area, looking for whomever had thrown those brutish explosives at her. Her senses told her that such an attack would've been a fatal blow for her had she not disengaged in time.

The revelation confused her, normally a modern age weapon wouldn't have even left a scratch on her no matter how much power was put into it. Her first thoughts immediately went to Berserker and their use of improvised weaponry. But the mad knight had long since passed from the war, and she would've sensed his presence had they been close by. That only left-

Saber's eyes refocused as she felt a presence finally unveil itself nearby, concealed amidst the pillars that surrounded her. The knightess dove out of the way as bullets shot forth from the mouth of whatever firearm was in her enemy's possession.

Presence Concealment, a skill permitted to only one Servant in particular.

Arturia dove behind the nearest pillar, listening as the hated sound of gunfire came to a halt, gritting her teeth as the enemy seemed to close the gap between them. Their footsteps were rapid, counting off the distance before she finally swung, mana surged through her body as she swung.

Sparks rang out as her blade caught and tore away the rifle in her enemy's hands. Finally able to get a good look at them as they fell back. Dressed in a skintight black garb that appeared thin and unruly in terms of comfort, her attacker's face was covered by a helmet but his build told her that the enemy was a man.

The man in black fell back several meters before rolling back to their feet, using the momentum of the blow for a quick recovery before Saber attacked once more. The powers of a Servant allowed her to cross the distance between them in the fraction of a second as Excalibur was swung once again.

_CLANG!_

Saber watched as the man deflected her blow, the dagger suddenly in his hands shattering to pieces as he landed on the other side of the makeshift arena, blocking her entrance to the interior of the building.

"Assassin," she spoke, uttering and acknowledging his title for the first time. She almost didn't notice his body tense up at his title, but she paid it no mind, "Stand aside, allow me to retrieve my Master."

He refused to budge, standing as still as a statue as he tossed aside his broken and empty weapons.

And for the first time since they've fought, he spoke, quiet, cold, and devoid of distinction, emotion, or tone.

"_**MJOLNIR…**_" a dull flash of light and he stood before her, dressed in bulkier garb. Proper armor… but this time the Servant radiated an even stronger presence. He was certainly stronger, faster, and much more durable in it from what she could sense.

_Mjolnir._ The word rang through Saber's mind. The divine hammer of Thunor, the pagan god of lightning worshiped by the Anglo-Saxons of old… but what appeared instead was simply a suit of armor, "Who… who are you?"

He didn't answer her, instead removing a weapon that had been clinging to his back.

A sword… one that she recognized even in its corrupted and blackened state. Her eyes widened at the fae runes that marked the blade, much like her own sword.

_Arondight_.

Her shock turned to anger, "You're not Lancelot."

Assassin shook his head, Saber's anger began to grow as he rose the blade against her, clutching it in both hands and tilted in towards her. He mirrored everything regarding the Knight of the Lake: the blade he carried, the stance he took, everything was a stolen mimicry.

He was mocking her.

Before she knew it, her body had carried itself forth, mind raging with turmoil and instincts honed to a razor point as she closed the gap between herself and the thief that dared mock her in a single bound.

The Sword of Promised Victory met the stolen Unfading Light of the Lake. Both blades screaming their wish to draw blood, sparks spraying across the battlefield with both combatants dead set on taking the other's life.

Saber's eyes turned a sickly yellow as her rage poured forth, fighting against the bastard that claimed the blade of one of her closest knights, not caring about how he claimed it in the first place.

She would kill Caster and end this nightmare.

She would claim the Grail, saving her homeland and the people who lived there.

Kiritsugu would finally get his wish, justifying all the actions he had taken for the sake of the world.

But right now? All she wanted was the man in front of her _**dead.**_

"Prepare to meet your end, _**ASSASSIN!**_" she roared, a slash reinforced by Mana Burst split the air in two and left her opponent open, proving him unworthy of wielding Lancelot's sword. Without an ounce of hesitation, she swung upwards, her blade tearing through the armor like putty and splitting the metal from diaphragm to face, a portion of his helmet split in two, slicing out an eye in the process as he crashed against the pillar behind him.

The dust settled, revealing the man laying still in the rubble. His body unmoving.

Victory was hers in an instant.


	12. Chapter 12: Reclamation Dauntless

"_I ask of you, magus of this era," the hero summoned before him spoke, his voice a low and deep rumble, like the growl of a lion, "Are you to be my Master?" _

_The look on the smaller man's face was that of shock, his eyes unable to even process the gargantuan being standing before him. For a moment, he looked to have just about short-circuited from the sight alone. _

_The Servant had stood several heads taller than the more diminutive and frail man, having to crouch low right after his summoning to avoid causing any more damage to the man's basement than he already did. _

_Archer sighed inwardly. Yes… Archer, that was what he was summoned as. The demigod incarnated anew felt the power of his own body surge, the mana alone pure and powerful like that of the sun, the skies, and heavens itself. Divine. _

_He spoke again, "Are you my Master, the one who shall assign me the trials of this War?" _

_Finally, that seemed to snap the red-suited magus out of his stupor, "I-I am." _

_The Servant suppressed the urge to laugh. This man didn't appear to be meek… perhaps he was expecting someone different? _

"_Then I ask whom I am speaking to if you truly are my Master," his expression remained stoic, "And your intentions with the Grail once it is within your possession."_

_The man seemed to sober up at the questions, straightening himself with the pride of a magus he would always see. Hmph, it appears that some things never truly change even after the Age of Gods. Much like that woman falsely accused of witchcraft._

_Archer suddenly held the urge to curse that damned fool that was his comrade. _

"_My name is Tohsaka Tokiomi, I seek the Root, the Akashic Records, for the sake of knowledge," his wish was spoken with firm resolution, a desire that the magus known as Tohsaka could never truly lie about._

_What a dull wish… but if a man such as him were to claim it, then there would be nothing that could go wrong. Better for him to make such a mundane wish than let someone with much more malefic intentions get ahold of it. _

_It sufficed for Archer. He would follow this man, but the Servant would have to withhold his judgement until he marched across the field of battle against another Servant. How the magus would act while he fought would determine the character of this man. _

_Speaking of which. _

"_Master," he boomed, grabbing the man's attention, "There is something that concerns me, particularly your uneasiness around me. Your regarding of me is a queer sight, so I must ask who you expected to have summoned before you." _

_With that, the magus swallowed, his unease was obvious despite his wish to suppress it. It didn't bother Archer, no matter what answer he gave, he would inform the man that he was someone far greater. _

"_The King of Heroes. Gilgamesh." _

_...Oh. _

_Archer closed his eyes, pondering the answer that the magus had given him. Of course, the oldest hero in history, the Babylonian King that stood above all. This man, Tokiomi Tohsaka, simply wished to win the war purely by brute strength, the age and knowledge of a Servant's history determined the starting factors of war… and the magus was betting on summoning the eldest of all. _

"_I'm afraid that you have summoned someone else with that catalyst of yours," Archer opened his eyes, giving the man a slight smirk, "But what you have before is nothing if not better than a mere arrogant king." _

_Skepticism drew across his Master's face, "I see. Then I ask of you to disclose your identity before me." _

_The divine mana that fueled the Servant seemed to explode in a wave, sending the magus stumbling back somewhat before coming to a stop. _

"_The answer is obvious," the demigod grinned, crossing his arms and giving his new Master a proud expression, "Before you stands the mightiest of all heroes…-"_

* * *

Now that he thought about it, perhaps he was too harsh on his Master during the following days, having found his body with a bullet wound through his head and bleeding out on the floor of his workshop.

'_Make sure Caster's death isn't painless, Assassin.'_

Archer opened his eyes, his sight flickering through the artificial lights that illuminated the bridge. The city that had once been ravaged a night ago had slept soundly, only the sounds of traffic miles away could be heard.

That was fine by him, this battlefield was a perfect spot for he and that man to do battle. So he simply reminisced on recent past, passing away the time as he waited patiently. There would be no way for Rider to ignore such a call to arms.

The Servant had about six more days to remain on the world if he used his mana sparingly, but that was no issue for him. The giant of a man simply stood at the center of the bridge, doing his best to ease whatever boredom that laid about his mind.

Counting the lightbulbs on the bridge, watching the water within the riverbank lapping gently at the shores, thinking on the whole war that had passed by. It was… an interesting experience.

The sound of rumbling in the distance caught his ear, but it wasn't that ox-driven chariot. It was far too muted and distant, a low droning that corresponded to the pair of lights speeding through the city from far away.

Saber.

He grimaced, crossing his arms and looking away, trying to take his mind off of boredom only to end up with something worse: distaste.

She was a bad memory that he would rather forget, not simply for the words that she had spoken to him as if she was firm and resolute in such petty ideals. Rather, his failure as a hero to simply protect the woman that was always attached at the hip with her.

That Einzbern woman.

Archer sighed, she managed to catch herself in time while he was busy being ripped apart by those monsters. It was distasteful by his standards and wouldn't forgive himself for it. Yet another sin that was to be added to his record of his own life.

Mistakes were what made people human, but he was a man that threw away his life and humanity. His gods-given form, his Noble Phantasm and culmination of his work was unbefitting.

In a way, he was jealous of them. Specifically, jealous of Assassin.

That nameless Servant fought in the shadows and hid among the commoners, mundane and faceless like a crowd. Like the Archer, he had failed, and yet he strived onwards even if it took a bit of advice from the demigod.

Where Archer would try to shoulder the weight of his own sins and mistakes, Assassin wore them and trudged onwards, bearing his faults for the world to see. He was truly human, much like those old friends of his.

Crackles like static echoed in the Archer's ears, the braying of oxen with the red-headed giant and his waif of a Master in tow. Archer sighed to himself.

This would be quick.

The chariot came to a stop, Rider dismounted alongside his Master, slowly and surely approaching the much larger demigod. Both men met at the center point, not a second too soon did they stop, meeting each other face to face since that night.

"Archer."

"Rider."

It was a mutual exchange of titles, a common ground found between them as Servants for the War, solidifying what had to be done for the Grail to be claimed.

"It's good to see you again so soon," Rider smiled, his cape seemed to billow even without the wind blowing behind him, "It's a shame that our paths had to end like this. Are you sure you won't join me?"

Archer shook his head, chuckling to himself, "I'm afraid I must decline, I have business to tend to once this is all said and done. Saber will need much more guidance on her ruling once you're gone."

The King of Conquerors barked a laugh, "It's good to see that you have confidence in your abilities. I too will not be holding back, even if I have to kill you a hundred times to get the point across."

The king and demigod laughed at their own expenses, exchanging words as though they were old friends. They might as well, it could be the last time they would speak for a very long time.

Archer sighed, looking at the night sky. The stars were beautiful, even blocked out by the light of the common men, he could still count the constellations. His favorite was Sagittarius, the centaur with his mighty bow pointed at Scorpius.

They reminded him of his teacher.

"You can feel it, can't you, Iskandar?" Archer hummed to himself, looking down to see that the King of Conquerors was looking out into the horizon… into the ocean.

Ah yes, the ever-distant sea. The object of Alexander the Great's obsession and lifelong dream.

"The War… it's coming to an end," Rider nodded, giving his adversary a warm smile, "And so soon too, I would've wished for it to have gone on just a little bit longer."

"Indeed indeed," Archer agreed, gazing over the shoulder of his enemy and at the young man far behind, "Something tells me that boy would make a fine retainer of yours."

"Quite so, you just now reminded me," Iskandar shook his head, gleaming with that brilliant smile of his, "Are you sure you don't want to join me? With our combined strength, we could take on the whole world!"

"I'm afraid conquest doesn't run in my blood as much as yours does," the Servant of the Bow shook his head, "I will take this as your final offer before I see if you are truly worthy of being the son of Zeus."

"I look forward to it," Iskandar held out a hand, one that Archer took, responding with a firm shake of his own before they turned away, "Don't hold back."

"I would never dream of such a thing," Archer scoffed and turned back, "But I will allow you the first move and time to speak with your Master. Take all the time you need, King Iskandar."

"You're too generous, Archer."

"Please, enough with the titles, we're without enemies nearby," Archer turned back around, unslinging the bow hanging off of his shoulders, clutching an arrow in his other hand as he waited once more.

"As you wish… Heracles."

The King of Conquerors returned to his Master, kneeling down and speaking with him. The greatest Hero in all of Greece watched with his abilities as the Archer-class Servant to see that the boy had begun to tear up.

Such an offer of friendship was too kind even for Waver Velvet to handle.

Several uses of Rider's cape as a tissue later did they stand climb upon the Gordius Wheel once more. Archer would allow one move for the man to strike first before it was his turn.

The thundering chariot sparked with jubilant radiance, electricity crackled excitedly as the chariot raced forth. Archer grinned as he readied himself, truly ready to see if the King of Conquerors had what it took to truly shed his blood.

That Chariot was simply a divine gift given by the gods. It was nothing more than a ramming tool, Archer knew that there was something even stronger within Rider's possession.

In the blink of an eye, the world inverted and caved in on itself, reality shaped itself according to the King's decree.

"Gather, my brethren! Tonight, we shall mark our gallant figures into the strongest legend!" the King of Conquerors cried out as Heracles opened his eyes to see… a desert.

No… a reality marble shaped by the inner world of Iskandar. The desert that he and his men marched for what seemed like an eternity in an effort to conquer the known world.

His Noble Phantasm: _**Ionioi Hetairoi!**_

"Impressive," Archer muttered to himself, gazing about at the world that suddenly existed around him, "But will it be enough to kill me?"

The existence of a Reality Marble, even more shaped into the will as a Noble Phantasm unique as this one, was on an unparalleled level. The demigod watched as hundreds upon thousands of men began to appear behind the red-haired giant off in the distance.

Soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, weapons of varying cultures and killing methods. Young and old, tall and short, yet their reverence to Iskandar was equal to each and all that surrounded the Archer.

Mirages given form, spirits given flesh, existences within the World Egg given the drive and desire to live, fight, and die for their king.

This entire battlefield, the might of the King of Conquerors, was a stage set simply for the two of them. His army would attack, for they were an extension of the king, they were all one and unifying as the Heroic Spirit that he fought alongside during that scourge.

"AAAAAALaLaLaLaaaa!" the king and his retainer screamed in unison, the encore growing into that resonating requiem as his men charged.

Yes.

This would be perfect.

The rank of this Noble Phantasm was to an incalculable degree, even more than that Gordius Wheel in his possession. Even if those soldiers were weaker, even if their weapons were mundane, even if their bodies could crumble like ash from a single strike from Archer's hands, perhaps they might be able to pierce his body.

Not that he would give them the chance to find out. The King of Conquerors revealed his trump card. So too should he.

God Hand had carried him this far. Embarrassingly only used to bring him back from the dead more than a number of times he would like to admit, twice from Berserker taking two or three lives at once and another from those demons. It was at this moment where the Archer would display the might and power that could slay even devils.

The power of the Ionioi Hetairoi was sustained by the collective dreams of Iskandar's army, they each carried a burden like he did. The more that fell, the more that dream began to fade away.

A single arrow was nocked, the bowstring wound back tightly as Archer took aim with all the strength in his body. The King of Conquerors continued to race forth, his chariot abandoned after the summoning of his reality marble and instead taking the reins of Bucephalus instead.

He inhaled, mana from within his body began to surge as his Noble Phantasm came into play. Archer's eyes dilated, pupils sharpening to pinpricks as he zeroed in on his target.

The first use of his Noble Phantasm was with this very same bow, a style that he came to practice with every single weapon he ever possessed until it was honed to a perfect degree. The monster-slaying technique that would fell anything that dared to rise again no matter how many times it could regenerate.

The Shooting of the Hundred-Headed Hydra.

"_**Nine Lives!"**_

The arrow was released. The dunes that surrounded Heracles crumbled apart as the sheer force of the released missile fired faster than the speed of sound, past the King of Conquerors and straight for his army.

That released Noble Phantasm, that single arrow, split into nine and thundered into the mass that congregated behind Rider. Blood stained the desert sands as his army began dying by the hundreds, with those hundreds turning into thousands. Nine simultaneous strikes began to overlap upon one another, their trajectory upon their current path twisted and warped like vicious thorns, slaughtering all that stood before them.

With every death, the miniscule anchors that held up that dream began to falter, the weight growing too large to bear as the world began to flicker and shift around him.

Bucephalus drew closer, the king upon his mighty steed raised his blade as Archer grew larger in his field of vision, hyperfocusing on the demigod as lightning began to surge around him. The power of the gods was on his side.

The blade swung down like an executioner's axe, Archer made no move to defy it, feeling steel cleave against his godly flesh as the Ionioi Hetairoi finally flickered and died, now unsustainable by the mass slaughter created within a single breath.

Archer coughed up blood, falling to a single knee as the incision from Rider's blade finally formed, cutting him down from shoulder to hip and piercing his heart in the process. He closed his eyes as death claimed him, a death that he could finally be proud of.

Rider and Waver dismounted as Bucephalus disappeared. Before the magus could voice the pride he felt towards his king, he noticed the blood trailing down from Iskandar's lips.

As well as the hole where his heart had been.

Archer's arrow never missed its mark.

"Thank you… Waver," Rider fell to a single knee, looking down at the spent command seals that his Master had used up hours before. Perhaps those commands were what kept him going even after such a fatal wound, "Thank you for seeing this journey through to the end…"

"W-what're you talking about, Rider!" the young man yelled, his hands wrapped around the king's arm, trying to pull him back up in a futile effort, "The command seals, you have to obey them, right?! You have to see this war to the end, you have to claim the Grail... you have to win!"

It was already too late, Waver Velvet watched tearfully as his Servant's vessel began to glow dully, having suffered a mortal wound… the King of Conquerors was no more.

Droplets stained the pavement as the magus fell to his knees, no longer able to hold himself up, "You i-idiot… you had to win… Rider… _Rider_..."

No one answered him.

Heavy steps could be heard behind him before a hand found itself on his shoulder. The hand was rough, but gentle. Waver didn't dare look up, still gazing at the spot where his Servant dared to leave him, but he knew that it was Archer… back from the dead yet again.

"That man… was truly a hero by every right," the son of Zeus spoke, speaking with little emotion as his words bore only the truth, "Be proud to uphold his legacy, Waver Velvet… for I am truly proud to know that man shares the same blood as my own."

There was nothing more that was said, for they had said enough. Archer disappeared, not daring to disrespect his rival by wishing to form a pact with the magus, even after having cut down his mana reserves to only a few scant hours.

All that remained were Saber, Caster, and Assassin. The remaining mana within him would be enough to take out one or two of them before he faded away in tandem. Disappointing enough that Assassin still remained so distant from his comrades, it was merely logical that they would end up killing each other when the time came.

And so Heracles left, letting the magus mourn as he set his sights on a new foe: Caster.

**-oOo-**

"_So you're the Magus Killer, huh?" the young man standing over Kiritsugu Emiya tilted his head, "You don't really look all that impressive, a little creepy maybe, but not really scary." _

_Kiritsugu Emiya had found himself surrounded by a number of featureless dolls held together by displacement thaumaturgy. Resembling more like mannequins than actual people, likely either this man's first attempts at such a feat or merely Caster prioritizing quantity over quality. _

_Neither answer mattered to him, only the situation that he had found himself in once again. _

_In his attempts to find Irisviel, Kiritsugu had began using whatever information he had gathered to go looking for her, seeing that only those involved with the Grail War would've done such a thing. _

_He had crossed out Waver Velvet as a suspect, seeing as he was within Saber's presence around the same time when Irisviel disappeared. Kotomine was already dead, as was Tohsaka when he went to investigate his mansion, finding the magus dead with a bullet hole carved into his skull while Archibald was found with his throat slit. _

_Sola-Ui was nowhere to be found, but she was merely a supporting magus from what he could gleam, useless without her husband or a Servant, and neither were alive. _

_That only left Kariya Matou and the unknown Master of Caster, neither of which have shown their faces either. He broke into the Matou mansion afterwards and interrogated the only person he had seen inside: Byakuya Matou. _

_It got him nowhere, he knew nothing. The loss of his right hand made him absolutely honest in an attempt to ease his pain. Kiritsugu only left with a bitter taste in his mouth and disappointment by the lack of results. _

_The pain in his body had left him weakened, but he nevertheless trudged on. Avalon's regenerative abilities had been taken alongside Irisviel, but it was unlikely whether or not the enemy knew the nature of the scabbard hiding within her. _

_And so the Magus Killer did what he did best: he went hunting. _

_Caster had done a good job at clearing his Master's tracks, but there were many other details that he had left unaccounted. All of which were the failed summoning circles left behind by his Master. _

_Women and children butchered in their own homes, their blood used for his Master's rituals until finally succeeding. He recalled the news that had reported on the most recent murder days ago, a change in the modus operandi of the serial killer with an adult male victim having been killed in the process with a kitchen knife. _

_The chance was slim, but he took it anyway. The room would've been cleared of evidence by human hands, but magecraft had offered him deeper insight. _

_A whole 48 hours without sleep and nonstop searching had finally paid off. Tracking the residual mana from the apartment to a nearby building overlooking where the second battle of the Grail War had taken place. _

_They were moving from place to place without end or effort in setting up a territory for the Servant. Kiritsugu had grit his teeth, Caster was smart, frustratingly so, but he was a magus, Heroic Spirit or not. _

_Eventually, he found the last known location being an old house on the outskirts of the city, nearly two miles out from the Municipal Hall… which was where the Grail was supposed to manifest. _

_It couldn't have been a coincidence. _

_A single order for Saber to investigate while he searched the building, that was the plan. _

_He stood upon a nearby building just a little under three-hundred meters away. There was no doubt a boundary field that surrounded the building, so there would be no point in getting closer_

_Peering through the lens of an infrared scope, he managed to spot someone within the building with little trouble. The heat signature of a magus was different than that of a normal human being, the use of mana caused the body to heat up in correspondence. _

_Switching to the scope's night vision mode, he got a glimpse of his target. A young man in plain clothes and red hair, nothing else was notable. He had a bored look on his face as he peered out the window… it was careless, so it was reason to believe that this man was an outsider to the Grail War, the boundary field likely set up by Caster so his Master could call them forth with a command seal. _

_It was already night, so there was little reason not to strike now. _

_He took aim and fired as soon as his target was finally within a clearer line of sight, not even a minute had passed since then. The barrel of the Walther WA 2000 still smoking as his target lay dead in a puddle of their own blood. _

_The Magus Killer let out a sigh, lowering the rifle and looking out at the distance. It was like all of his other kills, merely a task that needed to be taken care of. Caster's Master had been a serial killer, a blight on the world that needed to be killed. _

_He walked left the rooftops, descending down the winding staircase leading to the bottom. A bit of trouble considering his injuries sustained the last few days before, but nothing he couldn't handle. _

_By the time he reached the bottom, greeted by the cold air kissing his skin, he was surrounded by several figures shrouded in the blanket of the night as soon as he stepped through the door. Their bodies were smooth like plastic, devoid of clothes or notable features even in the darkness. _

_They spoke no words, but their intentions were clear. There was only about three meters of space between him and them, just enough time to act. _

_All of them moved in perfect unison. Kiritsugu quickly aimed at the closest and fired, watching as the first figure fell dead, revealing that the assailants were merely puppets made to act according to the master's wishes. _

_They were the immune system, he was the virus. It was their job to deal with the issue. _

_Kiritsugu had little time to react, nor did he dare risk using his Innate Time Control in the event it could end up killing him in the process. His rifle only held four more bullets left, two of which each fired simultaneously into the next closest dolls that tried to attack, leaving the remaining left. _

_Flipping the rifle in his hands and swung forth, breaking another doll's face from the sheer impact, merely reinforcing his own muscles as the rifle snapped in two over its head. The doll crumpled to the ground as two more followed suit. _

_The Magus Killer backstepped away, body pressed up against the wall as a knife found itself in his hand while his other grasped his Contender. _

_He narrowly dodged a fist aimed for his face, listening to the metal of the door denting from the sheer strength of the punch as Kiritsugu followed up with a stab to its throat before moving onto the other, using the stabbed doll as split-second cover as the doll's fist was absorbed the other's body before taking aim with the pistol and firing. _

_Both were dead simultaneously with Kiritsugu the victor. He panted, loudly so as his body was nearly pushed to its limits, only having enough strength in him left to walk. _

_**THUD!**_

_Before he knew it, something impacted against his back. The Thompson Contender slipped out of his grasp as he tumbled to the floor. The sound of wood impacting against the ground told him he was hit by a simple piece of lumber. _

"_So you're the Magus Killer, huh? You don't really look that impressive, a little creepy maybe, but not really scary."_

_Kiritsugu turned around to see the man that he killed standing before him, looking no worse for wear. That was impossible, he had been three miles away and should've had a bloody hole put through his forehead. _

_Instead he stood above the Magus Killer, several more puppets surrounded him, locking him in like a cage. _

"_**Mold**__, that's what Caster-sensei calls it," the man shrugged and looked away, largely uninterested in the Master of Saber, "Apparently it's my Origin, whatever that is. I simply made a decoy of myself out of one of these and had it take my place while I went out." _

_He explained everything and dealt his hand so casually. Either he was an amateur, thought he was simply better than the Emiya magus, or both. _

"_My name's Ryuunosuke, by the way. Serial killer and uh… mastermind in training, I guess," he scratched his head in thought before his vision zeroed in on the command spells on the older man's hand, "Oh cool, you have one of those command seal things like I do! Though yours look a bit faded." _

'Yeah, don't remind me,'_ Kiritsugu bitterly thought to himself. His gun was only barely within arm's reach, he just needed to keep the man talking until he could get the opportunity. _

"_I wanna kill you, you really look like a troublesome guy… but I think you'd be better off for Caster alive," the serial killer shrugged, "Besides, I only really like to kill women and kids, even though you'd maybe be a nice change of pace. You understand, right?" _

_No, he didn't. In fact, there was something fundamentally wrong with this guy, even by the standards of every other serial killer that died by Emiya's hands. They kept their intentions hidden and were often cold or unfeeling. Textbook psychopathy was what he often ran into. _

_But this man wore his emotions on his sleeve, completely hollow and unfeeling like the rest, so he made his intentions plain to the world like an inversion. A serial killer just on the boundary of magecraft and barely scratching the surface had managed to subdue him, surrounded by creatures formed by the unfortunate souls of the innocent. _

_His mind briefly flashed back to Natalia and their mission to assassinate Heinrich Zepter. An idea came to mind before he quickly reached for the weapon that seemed ever so close before the killer could continue to speak. _

_A hard kick to his face knocked him out before he could even have a chance to reach for his weapon, courtesy of a doll standing over him. _

**-oOo-**

"I know you're awake, don't bother hiding it," Kiritsugu opened his eyes and sighed, his lungs making a weird sound reminiscent of a reed as he looked around the room, an orchestral hall dimly lit by lights hanging off the walls,"You're just in time for the ceremony."

The source of the voice was that white-haired man, looking to be in his early-twenties and dressed in antiquated clothes. The malicious grin and words spoke with intent told him this was Caster.

The man flexed his fingers and tried to move his arms, realizing he was bound to a chair in thick hemp ropes. His head brushed against something cold and stony, but he kept his eyes on the Servant standing in front of him.

"You're a clever man, making me believe for a second that my young protege was capable of finally beating even someone as infamous as you, Magus Killer," Caster clicked his tongue and grinned, "But nothing is ever so simple."

He knew. Caster knew that Kiritsugu Emiya wanted to be caught. Ryuunosuke wore his intentions plainly, and his main purpose had given Emiya hope for survival.

"Perhaps my Master needs to take a few more lessons in subtlety… oh well, he made the right decision bringing you to me," the Servant shrugged his shoulders, "I _was_ going to use him for this, but now an appropriate guinea pig has found itself in my fortunate hands."

Punctuating his last words, Caster grabbed the edges of Kiritsugu's chair and spun it around in a dramatic flourish, awaiting his reaction.

"Only one more life would need to be taken for the Grail to manifest," Caster leaned in close over the Magus Killer's shoulder and whispering into his ear in that excited tone, _"And Rider was charitable enough to lend his own." _

Before Kiritsugu Emiya was the final remnants that remained of the Einzbern's vessel: a pristine goblet that floated almost heavenly over a pit that seemed to possess no end. The sight contrasted heavily as an inky and viscous reddish-brown liquid began to pour from the rim.

The Holy Grail.

_Irisviel_…

Caster's hands clasped around the bound man's shoulders, rocking him back and forth as the Servant began to ponder his next actions, "Now then, any last words?"

Was he planning on killing him here and now?

Kiritsugu still had two more command seals… no, he couldn't risk damaging the Grail right now. He peered warily down at the sea of mud from down below before looking back at the Servant, seeing the purpose for why he was teetering over the ledge.

"Why?" was all he asked.

Caster laughed, "So he does speak! You've spoken more often to me face-to-face than Assassin did, one-hundred percent more even. Good job, Kiritsugu Emiya."

It was a half-teasing, half-serious mix, laughing all the while. The last he had seen Assassin was during the battle between Saber and Lancer, but ever since then he disappeared. The Master of Saber had since then assumed that he had faded away after the Executor's death.

Caster seemed to think so too.

"As for why?" the aforementioned Servant pondered before merely shrugging, "Why does anyone do anything for whatever reason? You seek the Grail for whatever foolish wish you seem to have while I possess my own. Now with that pointless question out of the way-"

Asking what his wish was seemed pointless, Kiritsugu noted. Caster spoke in vague circles, deliberately shying away from the full truth and only offering halves or nothing at all. It was like talking to the Cheshire cat.

"_-Good luck~_" the man whispered closely once more before tipping his fingers forward. Kiritsugu's stomach churned, feeling his body pitch and a sense of weightlessness follow.

Then his world went black.

**-oOo-**

_Kariya awoke next to a dumpster, the smell of rotting and fuming garbage quickly bringing him back to his senses as something flooded his eardrums. It was night too, so having to look around for it didn't help either. _

_What was it... ? The pain wracking throughout his body didn't help either as felt around his clothes with his only working hand. He managed to stand back up with some effort, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the source of that damn noise. _

_Click._

"_H-hello?" he weakly said, bringing the phone to his ear. Pain wracked through his form even as he began to move, it was a miracle that he was even able to talk in this state. _

"_Hello to you too, Kariya," an eerily cheerful and hatefully familiar voice caused the Matou to grit his teeth, his fingers gripping tightly around the phone in his pocket, "It's me, your old business partner in this whole affair." _

"_What do you want, Caster?" the worm-riddled man demanded, nearly on the verge of crunching apart the device in his hands from the sheer pain. _

"_Oh, I was just checking up on an old acquaintance before the war ends, nothing too important really," a pause, "My apologies for that mad knight as well, it's a shame you're disqualified from the war now. Truly, my condolences." _

_Was he really just here to mock him? _

"_I'm- gurgh!... not finished," the man cried out halfway as a surge of prana shot through his body, the worms working faster and more efficiently, requiring more upkeep and even worse pain, "I'm still… participating." _

"_Oh, is that so?" his voice was surprisingly soft and… uncertain? "I was under the impression that the Servants of the War have dwindled down to a select few." _

"_That doesn't matter. I'll win the war…" Kariya hissed into the mic, "I'll free Sakura and get her away from this fucking city. I have faith in my… Assassin…" _

_Another pause, this one much longer than the previous. _

"_Assassin, you say?" there was a growing presence of curiosity in that man's voice, "So he survived, fascinating…" _

"_What do you mean?" _

"_Nothing nothing, merely taking note of a discrepancy I had made light of," Caster's statement was vague as per usual, "However, Kariya Matou, I had wished to sever my deal with you upon your disqualification, but it appears you're in luck!" _

_Kariya's dead eye twitched at the statement, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious by what the Servant was about to offer. _

_He said nothing more, allowing Caster to continue, taking his silence as an answer that he was listening, "You and your relatives both seek the Grail in tandem, but you only want it for Zouken, do you not? It was only with his help that Assassin was even able to defeat Lancer and, by extension, your Berserker." _

"_Zouken… approached you?" _

_That meant they shared a history, most likely before he was a Heroic Spirit. Kariya knew that the old vampire was older than he looked, but never did he realize it went this far. _

"_It was the other way around, in fact," Caster coolly replied, "I owed him much for providing his services to me once upon a time, so what better way than to work alongside his descendents to bring it for him?" _

_Even in a pain-filled, brain damaged haze, even Kariya was able to pick out the flecks of bullshit in such a response. Caster approached him because he was an easily manipulated Master with an uncontrollable Servant that was more akin to a mad dog than a hero. _

"_So… you want to make a deal with me?" _

_Caster went silent, "The Grail has already manifested, but a wish cannot be granted until all but one Servant remains. Rider has already been felled and Archer still lives even without a Master. And with a certain few coincidences that have been orchestrated to my benefit, Saber is bound to catch up eventually." _

_Kariya blinked, processing the information slowly before coming to a conclusion. _

_Four Servants remained. Caster, now realizing Assassin was alive, now had a hidden ace up his sleeve. He had bet on the rest of the Servants killing themselves before they would reach him, but now there was something to solidify his victory. _

"_As long as you live, and the Grail is intact, it will belong to the Matous," Kariya punctuated every word. With Tokiomi dead, all that was left was saving Sakura. The Matou name was dead to him, but he was already past the point of no return. _

"_...Of course, my dear Kariya," that same quiet tone, "Just keep Saber distracted, whether Assassin or she lives doesn't matter. I'll kill her Master if it comes down to that… he may even already be dead in fact. If Assassin lives, use your remaining command seals and order his suicide, then the Grail shall be yours." _

"_And Archer?" _

"_Don't worry about him," Caster replied bluntly, suddenly taking an impatient tone, "That's my problem to deal with and will be handled according to my own whims." _

"_Right," Kariya leaned himself against a nearby wall, catching his breath and looking down at the command spells in his hand. A click on the other end told him that Caster had grown tired of the conversation. _

_Little did he know that this would be the last he would hear from Caster. _

_Without hesitation, the seals on his hand glowed dimly. _

_Whether Assassin or Caster lived didn't matter, either one wanted the Grail and both had promised to bring it. But even a man like Kariya saw the scales tipping in one's favor, the likeliest chance of success. _

"_By the power of my Command Seal, Assassin, I order you…" _

**-oOo-**

_CLANG!_

An aberration like him could never have truly been able to win against a true hero like her. There was too much of a difference between them. Too wide of a gap.

Every battle he'd taken part in so far only ended up with him bloody and bruised. Nary did she come out with anything more than a scratch, and even then fortune came to her even at the brink of death.

His victory over Lancer and Berserker was merely a fluke in the grand scheme of things. One had been weakened and corrupted while the other was an incompatible Servant with a talentless Master.

Invisible holy blade struck against a stolen corrupted sword. Pure and wrathful talent clashed against cold and technical skill.

But her? She was Saber, King Arthur and rightful wielder of the sword Excalibur. The King of Knights who pulled the sword of selection from the stone told throughout the ages that even Assassin had known about such a legendary figure even so far into the future. Despite the misconception of her sex, her legend was timeless.

But him? Noble Six was a nameless martyr that died on a planet that he never grew up on. His past was unknown, his armor was classified information known to few, his weapons were mundane; hell, he didn't even know his own name.

Spartan-B312. A title that molded his character. So he took a name that was familiar once upon a time.

Assassin was a thief, and not even a very good one. His name was stolen, this armor was never truly his, and the sword clutched in his hands was merely something that he had picked off of a dead man seconds before delivering the final blow.

A thief could never win against a knight… at least not in a fair fight.

Assassin was not an honorable man, merely someone did what needed to be done and did it by any means necessary. Everything, be it the armor that surrounded him or any of the weapons in his hands, was a tool, pure and simple. Broken tools needed to be thrown away and unneeded tools were simply unnecessary.

_CLANG!_

Did he feel guilty to establish a friendship with Irisviel and Saber purely for the sake of information? No.

_CLANG!_

Did he feel shame that he was using the sword and accumulated experience it held to fight off the king that it had once served? No.

_CLANG!_

Did he feel remorse that the death of his adversary would deny them their wish, be they malicious or benevolent? Absolutely not.

Assassin stepped away from a wild swing to his right before lunging back in, throwing all the strength he could muster into Saber's next attack as their blades clashed once more. Her blazing yellow eyes only stared into a cold faceplate.

"_By the power of my Command Seal,"_ that man had said, _"Assassin, I order you to defeat Saber with everything you have." _

After this, if he even lived, Kariya Matou would most surely die.

For now, however, this sword needed to be put to its current use.

_**Arondight: The Unfading Light of the Lake. **_The fae-forged divine construct that proved itself without limit and belonging to a true and perfect knight: Sir Lancelot.

In his hands, it possessed an unrivaled quality that would've bested even the King of Knights had they been enemies.

But the circumstances were different now. Arondight was now in Assassin's hands, Hyper Lethal Vector was the only thing that prevented it from disappearing so long as it remained in his hands or on MJOLNIR. To him, it was nothing more than a tool, now downgraded to that of a C-rank Noble Phantasm.

However, it didn't change the weapon's nature, merely the perception of its history. It still carried the knowledge of its original owner, the power of boosting their parameters, and the desire to slay something as grand or overwhelming as a dragon.

Assassin never once wielded a traditional sword in his life, only ever the occasional alien-made sword. But the skill of the Hyper Lethal Vector carried that knowledge and transcribed it in such a way that even a novice like him could wield it to a technical degree.

He would've laughed bitterly to himself on every other occasion. Noble Six was a thief to the bone, he needed to play dirty and use every unfair cheat in the book to win.

Unfortunately, even a cheated trick can be outmaneuvered.

_**CLANG!**_

"Prepare to meet your end, _**ASSASSIN!**_" the smaller woman roared wrathfully as he tried to parry another blow and take off her head with his next swing, but it seemed she had other plans. Her sword carried a powerful burst of mana that took even him off guard once again, his defenses completely down as half of his vision suddenly disappeared.

Assassin crashed against a nearby pillar, listening to it crumble away as a cloud of dust had been tossed up. The HUD on his helmet disappeared as he opened his eyes, or rather eye. The woman had split his body from torso to face, half-blinding him in the process and piercing his heart.

Not even his own Battle Continuation would allow him to survive these wounds for very long.

Her attack pierced through his shields, armor, and overall defenses that he had put up. Pain quickly followed, watching through whatever was left from his helmet as she walked away.

He'd leave her no words, only to give her the satisfaction that she had avenged a fallen friend of hers. That was fine by him, so he simply closed his eyes and let his body relax as he sat upon that crumbling pillar.

Assassin awaited death to take him once again. Her wish would've been much more noble than his with a resolve like that.

But alas, fate was cruel indeed...

* * *

Victory should've been hers in that instant.

_Crack!_

Saber paused mid-step as she heard an impossible sound behind her. Her confusion turned to concern, which then turned to anger once again as she finally turned around.

'_That's…'_

"That's not possible," she whispered to herself, raising her sword once more as she watched the man she killed rise back up from his makeshift tomb. Did he possess some kind of skill that allowed him to keep fighting with such grievous injuries? It would explain why he was still able to continue moving.

But it didn't explain how his injuries were healing right before her very eyes. Saber watched as luminescent threads began to trace themselves around the wounds that she had personally dealt.

His fingers twitched, then his arm, followed by the rest of his body as he began to crawl out of the rubble. He shambled like a waking man before looking back up at the woman, the sword of Lancelot still clutched in his hands. Saber's chest ached at the sight, raising her sword at the man.

"You," her voice was still and quiet, before repeating once more with determination, "_You-_ Assassin, name yourself. If you have a shred of honor within you, then I implore why you stand in my way and why you dare to insult me by using such a weapon."

Assassin went still, his shoulders relaxing as his missing eye began to mend back together underneath the shredded helmet. He looked down at the sword in his hands before looking back up at her, that eye now healed and looking at her with an empty expression.

Finally he spoke, his voice now clear as hairline cracks began to form in his helmet, "See for yourself."

She recognized the voice… and as though on command, the dark grey helmet covering his face finally shattered, revealing the man that stood before her. That smiling man with those hollow eyes that always seemed so kind… no…

_Thom_.

Servant Assassin, summoned by Kirei Kotomine to partake in the Fourth Holy Grail War.

She almost didn't recognize him with that cold gaze upon his face. Not a shred of emotion or warmth in his expression, and yet it seemed more natural than any smile she had seen during their short time together with Irisviel.

Tho- no, _**Assassin… **_he kept his history vague, as if he had something to hide. It was like missing a piece to a puzzle that was finally found. It finally made so much sense for her.

Or… or perhaps she always did know, suspecting hostility from him the very moment he had laid eyes on them. She trusted Irisviel's judgment of him, seeing something warm behind that mask he called a smile. Saber let her guard down in that moment, she let her guard down in front of an enemy.

Her eyes were hidden behind her hair, shoulders shuddering slightly as her anger began to rise once more. He dared to make a fool out of her? He dared to brazenly wield such a weapon even knowing of his identity?

She was about to ask if he even bore any shame for his actions at all… but he didn't, she knew he didn't. And that's what angered her more than anything. A nameless vagabond using that sword as though it was nothing more than a simple blade to be thrown away. The memory of the Knights of the Round Table was nothing more than pissant to him.

Saber's eyes glowed in the darkness, hands grasped tightly around the handle of Excalibur as she shot forward like a bullet. The air grew thin and hazy before stabilizing as the distance between both Servants had been closed in a literal fraction of a second.

There had once been mercy in her attacks, perhaps giving Assassin time to throw away that sword in place to use his own abilities against her in honorable combat, but that no longer seemed to be the case.

_CLANG!_

Because even then, Arondight was still in his hands. Their blades locked with one another once more, her eyes locked with his and saw they held no life, nor pity, nor regret. Nothing.

It was like staring at a corpse.

Saber swung her blade once more, catching Assassin off guard as he tried to parry. Arondight failed as the unsuitable blade was blown back from the sheer force of her attack, Assassin tried to back away as Excalibur in its invisible sheath continued its trajectory, listening as another slice tore through his right arm and cracked against his sternum.

He was unable to see the blade and he paid heavily for that price.

Assassin's right arm hung limply at his side, bones separated by blade in that moment and barely hanging on by a single bleeding tendon.

A flash of air and Saber blocked a weaker blow to her right. Assassin was partially crippled in that moment, but he still had another arm to grip that sword.

One that he still managed to raise it against her. Arturia almost felt the need to ask why he was doing this, but the answer was obvious.

He sought the Grail just as much as she did, and he was willing to lie and betray for that wish. A mere Assassin stood against her, one that couldn't leave this battlefield alive with a tenacious resolve like him.

And so they clashed once more.

Assassin fought on a purely technical level with the blade in his hands, relying on moves put to practice but never truly used in the field of battle. Every attack was correct, precise and cold that fulfilled the bare minimum of what a sword was capable of. It lacked passion or the feelings and memories that Arondight carried.

Saber was a whirlwind of steel, her unparalleled fighting ability like that of a raging tsunami. The King of Knights fought with precision, finesse, and over all power that even a man like Assassin was incapable of. The King of Knights fought by the sword, it was a weapon that acted as an extension of her own self at this point.

Assassin dodged the next blow, kicking himself back from a vertical swing aiming to sever his other arm. By the time he landed to his feet, Saber had retaliated with a thrust aiming for his midsection, a thrust that had been easily parried as the man stabbed Lancelot's sword into the ground, rupturing the skin of the pavement as both swords locked in place.

Before Saber realized, the man's arm had already healed, stitching themselves back together with unknown magecraft. This error was paid forth as his fist buried itself into her stomach, cracking ribs and bruising organs as she was sent flying.

And yet she did not falter.

She landed back on her feet gracefully, blade still carried with a surreal mix of elegance and brutality. It wasn't until she saw the blood dripping down her invisible sword for her realize just how he was able to see the length of her sword.

His blood was a mere sacrifice, and sacrifices were rewarded. Assassin now knew the full length of her sword… and by the way he carried that weapon around her and the blatant reaction she held towards it, he likely knew her identity.

Invisible Air was useless at this rate.

The golden shine that was Excalibur burst forth, almost blindingly brilliant as she held the revealed sword at the hip. The Noble Phantasm that hid her sword dispersed, firing off like a jet engine as the trace of gold streaked across the battlefield and struck Assassin with the force of a mighty hammer beating down on an anvil.

Unstoppable force met immovable object.

Only one would give.

Six grit his teeth as Excalibur thrummed against the stolen Arondight, the concrete beneath him crumbling as he was left defenseless yet again. Her sword raked across his chest, piercing the shields once more and cracking his armor yet again.

Their fight went on for a minute as unbreakable swords clanged against one another with bloodthirsty intent. If the weapons couldn't give, it fell back to the skill of the wielder. Saber was the one with the upper hand by every means possible, she bore the strength, dexterity, and history that would provide her the victory.

But even with all those on her side, the battle was almost Sisyphean in nature.

Every wound and cut meant to kill him was healed faster than either could comprehend. He should've been killed forty-six times over and yet he still lived. Not even the Spartan knew how he was still alive, only that he simply was.

Even at the rate they were fighting, Assassin would never be able to reach the level of Saber's fighting ability, but he didn't need to. He simply needed to outlive her.

Another swing and he was sent flying through yet another pillar. The force behind Saber's attacks were immense, but there had to have been a limit to how much she could fight. She was bound to a Master, how long before either of their mana stores were all dried up?

Dust clouded the battlefield, now reduced to debris that littered what used to be a parking garage.

Saber panted, her armor and clothes damp from the battle that she continued to fight. She couldn't allow herself to rest just yet, but the attacks finally ceasing allowed her some reprieve. Her instincts tracked the sounds of footsteps as she closed her eyes,

_There!_

She turned around to see another pillar, listening as the sound of a sword cut apart the stone structure from its roots. The entire slab of rock shot forth like a cannonball.

Saber focused whatever was left from her Mana, shattering the rock like it was nothing. She grimaced, if Assassin had to resort to paltry tricks like this, then he was surely at his limits.

Her thoughts were deftly shattered as Assassin appeared behind the rocks, swinging Arondight at her sword and knocking the blade away before following it up with a kick straight to her gut, the same area where he had collided his fist with.

If there wasn't a weak point on his enemy, he simply needed to make one.

Saber crashed against the pillar on the opposing side, coughing up blood as she tried to stand to her feet. Her exhaustion was never truly realized until Assassin disengaged from their fight in that moment.

Assassin looked down at her, she was determined but _defeated_. If he showed even an ounce of hesitation, she would rise back up and kill him.

He raised his blade, both hands upon the sword of Lancelot. The blade intent to strike her from shoulder to hip, without the nature of "surviving even after sustaining a fatal wound", her death was most assured.

Saber's face was caked in dust and sweat, blood pooled from her lips as she glared at him with those weary eyes. Those sickly yellow irises dulled back to that soft green, her body was beaten from the fight while his own was without marring.

It was unfair.

_SHING!_

The sword swung down like an executioner's axe.

_CLANG!_

The blade sailed through the air before colliding into the ground beside the fake swordsman. Saber looked up to see the line of debris formed as he ground to a halt. His armor was gone and Arondight was no longer in his hands, his body started to glow as she realized his mana too had neared its end.

The intent was obvious, but neither dared voice it.

Without hesitation, with what little strength she had left, Excalibur found itself plunged once more into the heart of her enemy. The magic that held him together wouldn't be able to regenerate whatever mana he had lost.

Saber pulled her sword out of the man's body, watching as he collapsed onto the floor. Even then, she wouldn't forgive such a betrayal, her anger refusing to subside as she merely trudged on. Whoever remained would be dealt with, even in the condition she was in.

Assassin could only watch as she disappeared from his sight. Whatever had kept him alive would do so no longer. His Noble Phantasms would do nothing for him, there'd be no more mana to sustain him for these fragile minutes he had left.

Every battle, it always ended like this. It took him a while to accept that, but he did so anyway. His body felt like lead, unable to lift a single finger as he was surrounded by his own undoings.

"Farewell… Saber…"

He closed his eyes, accepting death in these last few minutes of respite.

And then the world around him grew black. Whatever happened to Saber and Archer and Caster had long since passed. He could only guess that the Grail remained.

That someone finally claimed it.

Everything smelled and felt wrong, unable to open his eyes as nothing existed anymore. His body was gone, merely a consciousness in the endless black sea as he returned… somewhere.


	13. Chapter 13: Recursion Insanity

"_Six… Six! Hey, Thom, wake up!" _an innumerable number of voices spoke to him.

Six opened his eyes, blinking as what looked like a flashlight shone in his eyes, causing him to instinctively smack the foreign object invading his senses away. Something colored white and blue then drew away as he tried to focus.

The Spartan scanned his surroundings through blurred vision and hazed senses. Stark white walls, the sound of machinery beeping softly beside him while his body was devoid of armor and wrapped in a thin sheet. The black eyestalk-shaped camera in the corner of the room gazed eternally at him, even as he had slept.

He was in a hospital. The person shining the light in his face was one of the nurses taking care of him while he was unconscious.

The Spartan looked back down, seeing his arms covered in faded burns and surgical scars. He flexed his fingers, testing the muscles in his body to feel that they were stiffened, likely from the lack of movement.

What the hell happened?

"Rise and shine, Noble Six, you've been out for a while," a familiar voice commanded him, one that earned his immediate attention. A voice that commanded authority, Noble One.

Same as he saw him before, his hair still cut high and tight while dressed in what looked to be a traditional Army uniform. It made sense, this wasn't a battlefield nor was Noble Team affiliated with the Navy anymore.

But that still begged the question, what was he doing here?

"Sir- ghhg!" the Spartan began an informal salute before hissing in pain, clutching his shoulder as the remnants of a blade wound stretching to the inner portion of his right pectoral lanced through his body.

"Take it easy, Lieutenant, we wouldn't want you to reopen that wound," Carter cautioned the younger Spartan, standing casually despite his status as a fellow Spartan and commanding officer, "You're on the UNSC _Hopeful_, Spartan. You've been through quite a bit."

The _Hopeful_… that sounded familiar.

"A bit is an understatement, Commander," another presence entered the room, having eventually caught up and entered the room. Six turned to see that it was Kat, now watching him blink in confusion for some odd reason, "Seven stab wounds and multiple plasma burns covering over sixty percent of your body. We thought you were already dead by the time we went looking for you."

What were they doing here? What was _he_ doing here? He thought they were… no, that couldn't be right, they were standing right here in front of him.

The pain in his shoulder told him this couldn't have been a dream.

"What's the matter, Six?" Kat tilted her head, a single blue eye stared at him with an inquisitive glint, the other was covered in heavy bandages, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

'_Funny you should mention that,'_ he wanted to say, holding back his tongue as he looked away, "What happened to me?"

Kat noticed his obvious discomfort, looking at Carter who only nodded back at her. With that, she left the room with Nobles One and Six remaining.

"What do you remember before waking up?"

Six blinked at the question, looking down at his palms as he tried to remember what had happened. He remembered staying behind on Reach while the Pillar of Autumn made its escape. After that was just a long blur of shapes and hazy figures before waking up here.

"Staying behind, sir."

Noble One pondered the answer before speaking, "What I'm about to tell you is classified information, Spartan. Only known by ONI officials, Dr. Halsey, and Noble Two after some… accidental breaches in multiple security systems."

Six nodded again as the doors remained closed, leaving only the two of them in silence, "Understood."

Carter sighed and crossed his arms, looking down at the floor as he tried to word his next statement with the right precision, "On the thirtieth of August, the Pillar of Autumn escaped thanks to your efforts, Noble Six. However… today is the fourteenth of September."

He watched as Six blinked again at the statement as the information slowly sank in.

"You were found wandering aimlessly on the ninth by a retrieval team of Spartan-IIs sent to rescue Halsey on a classified mission," the leader of Noble continued to explain, "Even then, you attacked the team in a blind rage before you were shortly incapacitated. Thankfully no one was injured."

That was good to hear.

The Spartan-III opposite of Six sharply sighed, "You were supposed to have died days prior, according to the surgeons that performed the operations. I told you before that I read your file, but Six… you really are a damn Hyper Lethal."

A light jab at the man's status and his impossible miracle.

"And what happened to the rest of you?"

"I don't follow, Six," Carter raised an eyebrow at the question, "What do you mean?"

"I… I thought you all-" the Spartan clutched at his head, an oncoming migraine seared itself near the base of his skull. He held up a hand to Carter, letting him know he was okay as the Spartan blinked away the flickering red dots in his vision, "What's Noble Team's current status?"

"Jorge and Emile are currently being debriefed on the prior missions during your coma, both had survived despite their injuries while Jun… is currently MIA."

"What do you mean, _MIA_, sir?"

Carter pursed his lips, trying to suppress a grimace at the memory, "I believe I'm supposed to tell you that _Spartans never die_, aren't I?"

It was all too much for Noble Six to absorb, the information provided seemed so wrong and yet… there was no way for him to deny it. The truth had manifested itself before him, it couldn't have been anything but the truth.

"What do you need from me, sir?" was all I said

Carter only shook his head, giving the man a rare smirk, "You'll receive your assignment and be redeployed as soon as you make a full recovery. I was only checking on my men to make sure they're up on their feet when the time's right. In the meantime, my only mission for you is to relax, Spartan."

"Roger that, Commander," Six acknowledged, letting a small grin creep up on his face as Carter nodded and left. The glass door slid shut on the way out, leaving Six to his own thoughts.

He noticed that the Commander seemed tense. The former Lone Wolf knew that Noble One was a man that cared for his soldiers, he couldn't imagine knowing how it felt to watch each of the men serving under him die before his eyes.

Then there were those words.

"_You were supposed to have died days prior…"_ those words echoed in Noble Six's mind.

The hell was that supposed to mean?

The door slid open out of the corner of his eye. His peripherals told him the figure was a woman as she walked through the glass doors, a uniform consisting of pale green scrubs and blue vinyl gloves covered her relatively slim form as she made her way towards him.

"Oh, I see you're finally up," her voice was gentle.

"Yes ma'am," he looked up to ask her if there was anything she needed from him, but he froze right as he saw her.

White hair and red eyes, skin colored a milky and pale white. It looked like she had been born with albinism, but there was something off about her… but nothing particularly wrong.

She leaned in close, snapping him out of his brief stupor, "Are you alright, sir?"

"Y-yes ma'am," he blinked and looked up at her. She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties, though definitely older than him by a slight margin, "What did you say your name was again?"

She smiled, "My name is Dr. Ahri Mann, but you can call me Ahri. I've been assigned your treatment over the week, and for the next few months. I happened to stop by after I saw your CO walking out."

Six nodded warily, still somewhat transfixed by her appearance. Something about it looked… familiar

The doctor coughed, snapping him out of his stupor, "You... must be a Spartan, right?"

Six's gaze hardened, "Isn't that-"

"Classified information?" her smile never left her, "I guess, but it doesn't really matter if I have personal jurisdiction from ONI. You _are_ a top secret kept by upper command who just so happens to be on a state-of-the-art floating hospital that's known for its miracles, right?"

That… made sense.

"Did you need anything from me, ma'am?"

She pursed her lips in thought, "Only if there's been any issues since you've woken up, any pain or discomfort?"

"Just an old wound on my shoulder and… weird dreams, I suppose," he answered, listening to her humming at his answers.

"I see," she scribbled down some notes on a nearby paper, "I'll make sure to prescribe more antibiotics and painkillers. I'm afraid I can't do much for weird dreams unless you need sedatives."

"That won't be necessary, ma'am," the Spartan shook his head, "Thank you."

"Aren't you a gentleman," she giggled before straightening herself up, "If there's anything else you need, make sure to let the nurses know. I'll be back next week to check up on you, Spartan."

She gave him a wink before turning around and leaving.

Noble Six sighed as she left, never once ignoring the strange feelings that felt like his chest was going to burst. There was a strange captivating presence that woman gave off, and he wasn't sure why.

He leaned his head back against the somewhat stiff pillows.

"Relax," the Spartan ordered himself. He made sure to abide by those orders.

Noble Six sighed as he closed his eyes, drifting back to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Several months passed and Noble Team was reunited sans for one quiet sniper. Even without Jun, the silence was even more deafening than it should've been.

Six was the last one to arrive, covered in new yet the same Mark V armor that he had since grown accustomed to. Before the rest of Noble Team could voice their own thoughts upon seeing him alive, a voice from the center of the room broke the silence.

"Listen up, Noble Team," the man on the screen, Colonel Holland, spoke as the small group that made up the Spartan fighting force gathered into the room. The soundproofed and thoroughly secured channel that the man was speaking through ensured that no one would be listening.

The mission was a simple one, but enough so for Noble Team: likely Insurrectionist activity on one of Hestia V's satellites, a moon called Meridian. The attacks on one of the local UEG stations had suffered from an unexpected attack that had managed to slip through their detection.

The only issue was what had happened to the casualties, as well as the original team sent there to investigate. Everyone that had died suffered from plasma wounds and needle gouges similarly to fatalities resulting from Covenant weaponry. The implications of an Insurrection-Covenant operation was absolutely ludicrous to consider, but even the most ridiculous notions weren't always impossible.

The rest that went missing were last seen heading towards Apogee Station, one of the many that existed on Meridian.

The mission? Investigate and put a stop to the attacks.

It was simple. Wiping out Insurrectionist groups was something Noble Six excelled in during his earlier years.

The research station was on a nearby asteroid belt on a neighboring moon of Meridian, having dealt in covert studies concerning Project _CHRYSANTHEMUM _if anything Kat had told them was to be believed.

And when it came to Kat, there was rarely any doubt.

Noble Team was dismissed, the four remaining members left through and strode down the halls. Each and every one of them offering their own welcomings to Six, alongside the acknowledgement and mourning of their sharpshooter.

Six and the rest of the team took the elevator to the ground floor. The facilities housing their briefing in hidden lower floors for classified purposes even for the research station that housed them.

_What an ONI way of doing things. _

To the left of Six was Emile, and to the right was Jorge. The skull-faced Spartan seemed to be facing the door with an unassuming demeanor, but Noble Six knew otherwise.

"Take a picture, Six," was all he said. The Spartan's lips twitched in a subtle display of amusement, looking down at the helmet in his hands, running a thumb across the smooth matte visor.

"Funny, Emile," Jorge answered Emile for him, who only shrugged nonchalantly, before turning to Six, "How've you been, Six? Haven't spoken to us in some time."

"Glad to be back," Six answered neutrally, the answer automatic as though he had rehearsed it a thousand times. Of course, the short answer left the larger Spartan dissatisfied, but didn't bother to press further.

"Right," Jorge responded, inhaling slowly, "It's a shame what happened to Reach."

Six looked at the larger man for a moment, "Yeah… you grew up there, right?"

"Born and raised," the larger man nodded, "Not how I would've preferred it, but I can't say I'm unhappy. How did you figure it out?"

"The accent," Six replied as they stepped out of the elevator, the doors sliding open to reveal a bright grey hallway. Noble Team made their way down the halls as dozens of scientists and researchers bustled past them to their locations, "They look busy."

A flash of white appeared out of the corner of his eye. A familiar young woman, that doctor that treated him earlier, walked past him, paying him no mind as though he was a ghost. Six gazed past the large group surrounding him, pausing mid-step as Emile quickly took notice.

"Gotta make room for the big guys," the skull-faced Spartan quipped, paying no mind to the usual civilian unease around the decorations in his visor and laser focusing on his teammate, "What about you, Six, see something you like?"

"Real comedian, Four," Six shook his head and letting a low chuckle escape his lips, "But I'm afraid she's already married."

"Hmph, how d'ya know that?"

"I-" he choked on his words as the thought sunk in.

Six didn't know. It just came to him and he merely voiced it automatically. She'd spoken with him through the months he was still hospitalized, but she never mentioned her marital status to him. It would've been unimportant to either of them.

Why did he say that?

"Oh, I see it," Emile turned back to where Six had been staring, "The ring on her finger. Good eyes, Six, it's nice to have you back."

Six only shook his head, subtly rolling his eyes at the jab as he placed the helmet back on his head.

A Pelican waited for Noble Team outside the facility. Anything larger would've been obvious for the mission. Maintenance crews had long since left as the aircraft sat there in the hangar bay, the troop door sat open like a gaping maw as a row of empty seats lined up on either side.

"Shotgun," said the Warrant Officer.

"Denied," said the Lieutenant Commander.

Six swore Kat was smirking beneath that helmet of hers as she beat Emile to the punch yet again.

Carter took the pilot seat while Noble Two followed suit. Flicked on the buttons and pushed in the circuit breakers that lined up along the panels overhead and behind.

Faults within the systems? None.

Hydraulic pressure? Stable.

Discrepancies within designated craft? None listed.

Liquid Oxygen quantities for Crew, Passenger, and Auxiliary converters? Maximum.

Emile picked out a shotgun amongst the array of firearms that lined up amidst the weapons rack that sat in the corner of the hold. Among them were the usual while Jorge decidedly kept hold of the heavy machine gun he was never seen without.

Six picked up a rifle, an M392 DMR. He checked the weapon by pure habit: magazine, chamber, barrel, reset the counter below the scope before pushing the mag back in and flicking the safety.

It felt so right, like second nature.

He listened to the dull roar of the Pelican's thrusters warming up, a slight teetering off the ground as the three remaining Nobles in the troop bay sat in their seats.

With everything said and done, the aircraft lifted off. Noble Team began their objective.

* * *

Two hours of conversation between Noble One and the governor of the Colony, one by the name of Sloan, had finally ceased. The disgruntled politician was initially unmoved by the deaths of UNSC officials nor did he confirm the existence of any Insurrectionist activity in the area.

They quickly learned that the mission was far more than a simple Insurrection clean-up and even more eerie than the presence of Covenant forces. All of which were a fabrication made by Governor Sloan to utilize UNSC resources to quell a much more unknown threat.

It was a dirty move, but the only truth of the matter was that UNSC troops _did_ in fact disappear. Whether there were rebels prowling about the area was secondary at this point if what the Governor said is true.

Noble Team stepped off the Pelican just seconds after landing, standing just outside Apogee Station before entering. The area seemed ruined and dilapidated, begging the question over what exactly happened before they arrived.

"There was supposed to be someone to escort you through," Governor Sloan's voice suddenly spoke through comms, "In fact, there are supposed to be people here at all. My apologies for having you take the long way around, Spartans"

The observation was obvious. The world around them was quiet, save for the echoes of boots thumping against metal as they walked. The filters in their helmets told them that the air was thick with glass particles… it'd be a miracle if there were anyone alive.

"And what about you, Governor?" Noble Two inquired.

"My presence here is a lot less… tangible," the man in the comms spoke with precision, trying to pick his next words, "I can assure you that this has no detriment on my health nor to your mission. I can't speak for the rest of my people, however."

Noble Team made their way through the narrow corridors, the entire complex as they walked through held a completely industrial feel to it. This was apparently a settlement, according to the briefing they received.

It almost reminded Six of New Alexandria.

"We were a year too late," Jorge muttered beneath his breath as Noble Team passed through the corridors and out into a more spacious room, one that spanned outwards to show off the beautiful landscape of Meridian.

Or at least… what once was.

Noble Five stared out at the sight, his eyes focused on a lava river flowing down a small bank in the distance. There weren't any people here or out there, devoid completely of activity or life.

'_The Covenant.'_ they all simultaneously thought. What once held endless bounds of soft green hills and flowing water abundant with fauna was now merely a ball of glass floating through the sea of space, like a marble.

Six placed a hand on the larger man's shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts, "We'll kill those bastards, Jorge. For Meridian, for Earth… and for Reach."

A beat before Jorge nodded, regrouping with the team, "Knew there was a reason why I like you, Six."

The Spartan smirked underneath his helmet as the team came to a stop. Nothing showed up on the radars, no matter how much they reset and extended the reach.

"What did you say this place was for again, Governor?"

"Apogee Station is one of our primary settlements, one that uses its resources to mine away the glass sitting at the surface of our home," the man answered in a low, almost mourning tone, "The Liang-Dortmund Corporation was charitable enough to lend their services for reconstruction shortly after Meridian was glassed by the Covenant."

"And the missing troopers?"

"Of course, Spartan, your _mission_," the man spoke curtly, "They were last seen heading down through the mines on the other side of the door to your left."

The team turned to see two massive doors, massive and sturdy like the entrance to a bomb shelter.

"Governor, we'll need access, if possible," Kat spoke through the comms. If that wasn't possible, it would simply be a matter of how long it'd take for her to do it herself.

"Understood," the doors suddenly creaked open, "Make it quick, Spartans. I'd rather you don't go snooping around my belongings for very long."

"Got something to hide?" Noble Two queried.

"Everyone has their secrets, Spartan."

The doors came to a stop, allowing them inside. The cavern was dim, only illuminated by the light outside, but was sure to grow darker the farther they traveled.

Surely enough, it did. Six activated night vision, the outlines around the tunnels becoming much more clear. The walls were rocky, as well as much of the flooring and ceiling, as though it was in the process of being set up for an excavation site before it suddenly stopped.

The tunnels went further, the rocks were slick with condensation even after the entire world was glassed to bits. Noble Team noticed the walls growing wider with each passing step until they reached a set of multiple corridors.

Two were the only ones lit. It was almost like it was beckoning to them, Six noted.

"Sir?"

"Noble Two and Five, with me. Four and Six, you take the other," Noble One raised his rifle, slowly treading into the other corridor, "Maintain radio communication. Status update every five."

"Roger that, Commander," Jorge followed closely behind the two blue-colored Spartans while Emile and Six took the other, "Good luck."

"You too, big man," Emile nodded to them as they disappeared, "We gettin' a move on, Six?"

"Copy," Emile and Six made their way into the other corridor.

Emile and Jorge's synergy within Noble Team was no different than the rest, but the two mixed about as well as oil and water. Emile respected Jorge as a teammate and as a friend, though was never too keen about showing it.

This was certainly a rare sight.

"S'there something on my face?" the man asked, keeping the shotgun level as they passed through what appeared to be another research hall, remnants of neon lights scattered around the floor, "On your right, Six… the hell's that?"

The Spartan swiveled on his heels, turning in the direction Emile had pointed to and froze, flicking the night vision off and turning off the night vision, inspecting the contents of they saw.

On one of the counters was a jar filled with what appeared to be some kind of thick clear solution, formaldehyde most likely. Floating inside was what looked like a hand, gnarled and thick with smooth opaque skin the color of ebony, each digit held a talon roughly five inches in length.

"I don't think this is just a mining op."

"What gave it away?" Emile looked closer at the hand, suspended within the opaque liquid and completely motionless, "Creepy… but this isn't part of the job, Six."

"Copy," Six nodded, making their way past the room, "Any sign of the missing troopers?"

"Nothing shows up on my radar aside from you and what I can assume to be One, Two, and Five taking the other route," Emile shook his head, "So that's negative as well."

"_Noble Two to Noble Four, come in." _

"Noble Four comm check."

"_Comms are still clear, Noble Four."_

"Copy, got something Noble Two?" Emile asked, motioning closer for Six to head further down the corridor.

"_There doesn't appear to be plasma damage throughout the area. No bodies either… this is strange, we swept Apogee Station clean before we came here." _

Something caught Six's ear, a quiet sound deep into the corridors. His head swiveled at the sound, it was somewhere in the distance, maybe somewhere around forty meters away. It sounded wet yet brittle, like predators eating a fresh kill.

Noble Six rechecked the counter on his DMR: fifteen rounds. The Spartan released the safety and continued making his way over there with caution, his steps muted and avoiding any obstacles in his way as he stalked onwards.

Thirty meters…

"_No bodies up there or down here, but the damage still remains,"_ Noble Five spoke through the comms as well, _"It's like we're investigating a ghost town." _

Twenty meters… ten meters...

"_I'll speak with Actual about this, Noble out,"_ Kat's comms went dead. Emile looked at his radar, seeing Six make his way further.

Before he could ask Six on his condition, gunshots rang out.

"Six!"

"Contact!" was all he said throughout the gunfire followed by the sounds of something else, a guttural and inhuman cry broke the silence before Emile came to a halt, stopping to see the barrel of Six's rifle still smoking as he stood over a dead creature.

It faded away as it died, like it was made out of vapor, but Emile saw a vague and wispy black lupine outline and dull red eyes.

"Condition?"

"Didn't even graze me, Four. It didn't even show up on our radar, but I still-" Six doubled over, clutching at his armor, "What the hell is- gah!"

"Easy easy, Six," Emile cautioned, lowering the shotgun in his hands and lending a hand, helping straighten up Six as he let out a breath, "Can't have you dying on us right outta the hospital."

"Right," the Spartan nodded, letting out a hiss of pain. It felt like he got shot, but the damage wasn't there. It was like it was… inside?

The pain ceased and Six checked the counter on his gun: twelve shots.

Three bullets put that thing out of commission, it was relatively weak if it only died to few body shots.

Comms flared to life, "Noble Six to Noble One, do you read me?"

"_Loud and clear, Noble Six. We heard heard a disturbance and are moving to investigate. Actual isn't responding and Two says the doors are locked, won't even open no matter how hard she tries to crack it." _

That couldn't be possible. Kat's talent as a cryptoanalyst was second to none, this'd be mere child's play to her.

The doors were magnetically sealed shut, air tight and explosives-proof. A nuke could go off nearby and the door would still be able to hold. Even Jorge's unsurpassed strength couldn't open it, so it all fell down to Noble Two.

Or at least it did.

"Sir, we've made contact with the enemy," Six chose his next words, "Neither Covenant or rebels, unknown origin."

"_Native species of Meridian, perhaps?" _Noble Five cut through to the comms, the sound of Jorge's heavy armor and weapons could still be heard amidst the chatter.

Six shook his head, thinking back at the preserved hand in the jar, "I don't think so. They give off no heat signature nor do they appear on our radar. There's no heat, no heartbeat, nothing."

"_I'll contact the Governor as soon as we can get signal back on the surface again. Carter out." _

The electrical whine of a comm call finally cut dead.

Broken lights hung overhead as they passed through two sets of double doors and entered into a narrow corridor, shelves made up the walls as their route split up into dozens of different routes.

Everything hanging or sitting on the shelves were merely either hard plastic boxes or power tools. A thin layer of dust coated their surroundings as they came to a halt. Signs all pointed to different instruments with their own respective purposes, while ID markers labeled what subset of tools someone was looking for.

The floors were still smooth, unlike the rocky tunnels they traversed through. Everything was completely established inside just as much as it was out. Everything looked so hastily made, yet with a quality finished work. Something stuck out for Six, but he didn't know what.

This must've been a big operation. So why did everyone suddenly disappear?

"Split up or stick together?"

Six felt a tingle on the back of his neck. Maybe a change in the air?

"Together," Six shook his head, "Something doesn't feel right."

Emile stared at him for a while before pointing over a path with a dimly lit red sign, "Leads to the stairs, this place probably goes hundreds of meters underground. But you feel that?"

The quiet hum of something gently rumbled beneath the Spartan's armored feet. Six nodded.

"The generator," Emile noted, "Damn thing's intact, and working too. The others probably feel it."

Six nodded, taking in what the man beside him was saying, "Why didn't those things kill the power instead of the lights?"

The Spartan had only got a glimpse of it before it died. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't put his finger on where or when.

"Beats me. Either way, this place is just giving me the creeps," Emile shrugged, lowering his shotgun as he turned his head to the sign, "After we find these troopers, I'm torching this damn place to the gro-"

Something pushed him aside.

_**BANG!**_

A scream as an explosion followed. Something impacted right next to Emile as he finally caught his balance. Whatever attacked him missed as Six pushed him out of the way, putting a bullet in its skull before it could hit him.

"Contact!" Emile and Six looked at one another before a cacophony of screams split the air as if on cue with their transmission.

"Of course there'd be more," Six clicked his tongue, looking back at Emile, who held his own weapon at the ready,"Let's go."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Four nodded and strode alongside the Spartan to his right.

They didn't appear on radar, but a Spartan wasn't simply blind without it. Six watched as several red eyes appeared in the darkness, night vision made them glow like pilot lights as they began to emerge.

Six unconsciously took a step back.

They were as tall as him, bodies vaguely humanoid as they stood on two legs.

That's where the similarities ended.

Their legs bent at odd animalistic angles, like Elites but on a more twisted scale. Their arms were long and thin, stopping at gangly fingers with claws the size of kitchen knives. Beast-like faces, their eyes looked like ugly red gashes than actual eyes.

Six fired before they could do any further damage to him or his comrade, something in the back of his mind screamed for him to get away from these things at all costs. Bullets piercing their bodies with ease as they growled and sped towards him in long gaits.

Many died before they could reach him, but their weak constitutions were overwritten by the vast numbers that began to multiply around him.

"What the hell are these things?!" Emile exclaimed, firing his shotgun into another beast, watching it crumple and disappear like wisps "Are you seeing what I'm fucking seeing?"

"I wish I didn't," Six backed away, dodging a swipe from another creature and firing until his rifle clicked empty, "Get down to the lower levels, we need to put space between us and them."

"Easy," Emile agreed as his gun clicked empty as well, "Shit!"

One quickly closed in on him, but quickly fell as the butt of his shotgun met its ugly maw, "You're going to have to work for it, you shits."

A flash of steel rang out as Emile buried the kukri between the eyes of another before backing away.

They leapt off the foot of the stairs and landed with a resounding crack, turning around the corner to be greeted by another flight.

They repeated the process.

Emile and Six banked to the right as they were met with a short hallway, the door at the very end leading into a nearby cavern. To the right was another set of stairs, while behind them was a ravenous horde hot on their trail.

"We're not leaving without the troopers," Six spoke through his fear, his voice coming out as a whisper.

"We're not," Emile shook his head, quickly reloading his shotgun even as they ran, "I have something on the radar, three dots."

"The rest of Noble," Six looked at his own radar to confirm it, "But still no soldiers. Something doesn't feel right Emile..."

"Of course something's not right, Thom," Emile turned back to the direction those beasts were coming, "Whatever those freaks are, it ain't natural."

Six slowed down, pondering his words, the sound of those creatures growing louder with every passing second.

"Six, what the hell are you doing?" Noble Four stopped just ahead of him, looking back at the man, looking down at the assault rifle now clutch in his hands. Even behind that skull mask, Six could still see the concern on Emile.

He was brutal and sociopathic when it came to the enemy or to anyone that wasn't Noble Team, but Emile wasn't inhuman.

"Go on ahead of me, Emile," Six looked back up, "I just remembered something."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just go," the Spartan watched as they appeared, tearing off the dog tags and tossing them to Emile, "Find the troopers, regroup with Noble Team. I'll buy you some time."

"But Thom-"

"I said GO!" Six scowled underneath his helmet, a soft step before followed by several hundred more. The beasts appeared, packs of ravenous demonic wolves growing closer by the second.

"This is how it always ends, doesn't it?" Six muttered to himself as he raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.

Howls filled the air.

Blood stained the walls.

Pain flooded his senses.

The world went black once again, as it always did for an eternity.

* * *

Six opened his eyes, lights greeted him as he found himself in a hospital room. Everything looked the same, nothing seemed out of place.

"Must've been a scary dream you were having," a voice caused him to turn, seeing that familiar white-haired doctor, "You were tossing and turning in your sleep for that past hour."

What was her name again?

"Yeah," the Spartan said, the visions that flashed before his mind were so eerily real, but quickly began to fade like a distant dream, "It was. But now I'm awake."

The doctor was fiddling with the controls hooked up to him. Six looked down to see that he was still in that thin sheet of fabric.

"Well, that's good to hear," she smiled, standing back up and inspecting the machinery before turning back to him, "Is there anything you need while I'm here?"

The Spartan opened his mouth before closing it a second later, shaking his head.

"In that case, if there's any further complications, let me know," the doctor said before turning back.

"Wait."

She stopped, turning around, "Yes?"

"There's still a slight pain in my shoulder," Six grit his teeth, rubbing a hand against the spot, "Could you check if some of the stitches reopened? I can't see it from this angle."

"Certainly," she strode back to him, leaning in to get a closer look at the damage as the Spartan pulled fabric on his shoulder. The doctor looked back up at him a minute later, "Nothing seems to be wro-"

_Crack!_

Before she even realized what was going on in the fraction of a second, the doctor found herself colliding against the wall nearby. Eyes practically bugging out of her skull as she was unable to breathe.

The grip of a Spartan was not one to be taken lightly.

"_Who are you?_" a cold voice asked her.

"I… ghugh!" she choked, unable to breath, "D-doctor… Ahr-"

"Don't play games with me," Six's hand tightened around her neck, her face nearly on the verge of turning blue, "_What_ are you?"

He noticed that security didn't even make a move to stop him.

In fact, the entire facility had gone quiet.

"Let… me… go," she gasped between breaths before Six eventually let go. She fell hard against the ground as the woman gasped, finally able to breath before looking back up to see a very angry Spartan looking down at her, "What gave it away?"

"My name isn't Thom," Six had many other things to note that were wrong. Jorge would've been more solemn over the death of his homeworld, Meridian was glassed a year ago, the _Hopeful_ wouldn't have been around so close near Covenant activity even after Reach was already glassed, and Emile wouldn't have spoken to him as much.

There were also the details of things he wasn't supposed to know, but he supposed that would suffice.

She sighed in disappointment, standing back up and brushing a lock of hair out of her face, "Damn… and I was hoping this was convincing enough."

"You didn't answer my question."

The doctor pouted at him, "And I thought you were a gentleman," she relaxed, "I suppose I didn't, but congratulations."

Six's face twitched, a slight bit of confusion on his face amidst the anger.

"Your wish has been granted," the thing that looked like Irisviel Von Einzbern flourished an arm, "Everything has gone back to the way it was. The Covenant is gone, now simply back to Insurrectionists and a few… notable things that you could kill to satiate that Spartan need."

"It wasn't exactly convincing."

"But you believed it for the time," she smiled, "But that's all that matters, doesn't it?"

Dreams. The Grail wasn't omnipotent, Six knew that now. Forced to live an eternity of living and dying over and over again within this dream, only to wake back up at this same medical bay. Rinse and repeat until he finally snapped, that was inevitable, such a thing couldn't be perfect.

Now he remembered. Truly remembered.

The only thing he wanted could only be accomplished in a fantasy, an almost frighteningly convincing one. Six almost wanted to laugh, he was never truly that lucky.

Only someone else had that kind of luck. Another Hyper Lethal.

He looked at the woman, or whatever it was that was standing in front of him. Behind her were the four remaining members of Noble Team.

Jun was still missing. That was what stuck out to him ever since the beginning.

How much control did this thing actually have?

"I'm afraid I couldn't bring your final friend back," she apologized in her own way, "There seems to be something wrong with this reality."

She looked back at him.

"But your wish has been granted, not in a way you wanted but in a way you could accomplish," she held out her arms, "You are the final victor, everyone else was rejected or rejected me."

"I wonder why."

"You're no fun," she sighed, "You're one of the few that could bear the contents of the Grail, someone who could bring about my birth to the world: an unnamed martyr. Be honored, Spartan-B312."

"And what exactly are you?"

Irisviel smiled, "The Grail of course, the object of your desire."

Six strode past her, looking back at the standing forms of Noble Team. They stood as still as statues, as if awaiting something.

There was something in one of their hands, he took it.

"Why did you take _her_ form?" he asked.

Irisviel's doppelganger tilted her head in curiosity, "Are you not comfortable with this body? Does it not bring about feelings within you, perhaps a life you could live with it?"

He laughed as if it was a joke, still looking away from her, "You misunderstand, I don't have feelings for her. She was a good friend, yes. But if I'm going to be honest-"

Six turned back around, a click pierced the silence between their words as he pointed the object at her forehead.

"-I would've killed her myself if I was ordered to," his eyes glazed over as if a film of ice washed over him.

The fake pursed her lips, "I see… is that mask truly so form fitting? I wonder... No, you're simply incomplete, unsure of yourself."

"What?"

She laughed, a hollow and fake sound passing off as something sickly sweet to his ears, "Nothing, merely an observation. If you won't accept this dream, then would you simply return to the Throne of Heroes? You'd be throwing away a chance at happiness, all you have to do is simply forget."

Six lowered the pistol, "I should, but I won't… return to the Throne, that is."

"Oh, so you're accepting my offer?"

"Not in the slightest bit I am," he scowled at her before turning away. He could still feel it within him, buried deep, his power as a Servant.

He just needed something to kickstart it. A trigger of some sorts.

Noble Six turned around to a member of Noble Team, their faces hidden behind their helmets.

Spartans were symbols of hope. Even if he was hidden from the rest of the world, the Spartans would always be heroes even if he wouldn't admit himself as one.

He placed a hand on Noble Two's shoulder before placing the muzzle of her pistol against his temple.

"W-what're you doing!" the woman behind him cried out, "If you kill yourself, you'll only return to the Throne!"

His voice was hesitant. Desperate. But he was sure. The trigger was right there.

"Noble Phantasm," he spoke, closing his eyes and inhaling, the second Noble Phantasm he had hidden from the War, an unknown power only his Master had seen, "_**Fall of Reach**__._"

He pulled that trigger. Hot lead puncturing his skull and splattering brain matter across the walls and ceiling.

The world went dark once more, pain flooded what remained of his mind before that too faded away.

Everything ceased to exist… until it did once again.

Smell came first, then sound, then touch and taste and sight.

He opened his eyes. Fire flooded his senses and smoke filled the awoken Spartan's lungs as he struggled back to his feet, looking at the burning landscape around him.

Assassin found himself in hell.


	14. Chapter 14 (Final): Objective Alpha

Kiritsugu saw the end.

The earth was a burning and ruined land. Wreckage of gnarled metal and shards of glass melted beneath his feet as a broken man found himself wandering through the hellscape of his own making.

_How could this happen?_

The sky was painted black, the stars blotted from the sky like an evil omen spitting the truth of his own undoing before him. The Magus Killer no more merely shambled through sinful earth looking for someone, anyone.

So he walked.

And walked and walked and walked and walked.

He walked until his feet bled, until the tears in his eyes had all but dried out, until his throat was too dry and frayed for him to even shout and cry out. His heart ached and his body was weak, resolve broken and ripped apart by the truth of the Grail.

And so he continued to walk. It was like a punishment, something he deserved.

The bodies he found were merely hollow husks, too broken and too damaged to be saved. The people swept away in the vicious tide of sin and evil didn't even have time to scream.

Kiritsugu Emiya killed so many, justifying it as a way to save the world. The few for the many, one for ten, ten for a hundred, a hundred for a thousand.

And now… nothing.

Nothing nothing nothingnothing_nothing__**nothing**_.

Rain soaked the broken man as clouds had formed above. Droplets pitter-pattered against the ruins of the city as he continued on his futile search, the fire around him began to suffocate and die.

He could barely think, he could barely breathe. Nothing remained but him, nothing but a pitiful excuse for a man that tried to save the world with the use of a glorified monkey's paw.

Hundreds of people died in that fire, and over a hundred buildings destroyed.

"...!"

But then a miracle finally came. Amidst the rubble was a hand, covered in soot but still colored with life and warmth.

Kiritsugu's empty eyes blinked, hoping that this wasn't another farce from that wicked Grail trying to crush his hopes. His hand reached out, grasping the hand.

It was real.

It was _alive._

Kiritsugu's eyes were filled with tears once again. Someone still survived the fire, an impossibility that managed to elate the older man's spirit once again.

He fell to his knees, clutching the hand of the one he saved as it was the only thing that mattered to him anymore. The eyes of a red-haired child looked back up at the crying man, barely able to comprehend what he was looking at.

"Thank you," the man whispered, his eyes shut tight as a sad smile made itself known, "Thank you thank you thank you…"

The boy was confused, never having seen this man before in his life. Nor knowing in that moment, he hadn't been the only one who was saved in that fire.

_Click!_

The hammer of a pistol clicked back.

Kiritsugu glanced back up, seeing another impossible sight.

Standing before him was a taller man with his Thompson Contender in hand, his eyes burning like bright coals amidst the smoldering flames. Draped around his ash-covered body was a tattered cloth while his other hand was hidden from sight.

Empty eyes met empty eyes, hollow men meeting for the first time ever. Two machines in mortal flesh that shouldn't have survived despite the impossible odds. Fate was cruel, and it seemed to have a sense of humor as well. If rather twisted.

Only one thing could've wished for his death, and he was sure every Master had been accounted for shortly before the end of the war. This had to be a Servant.

The Assassin.

Neither one spoke to the other, Assassin merely kept the stolen gun in hand, pointed between the eyes of the former Magus Killer. There was no mercy behind them, nor love or warmth or happiness. Instead, there was something else… something he didn't know what.

The Spartan, on the other hand, only focused on his enemy, this so-called Magus Killer. The Master of Saber that created this hellscape, if he was able to pin down the fact he was the last. He didn't know what Kiritsugu had tried to accomplish or wished for, but what happened here was, without a doubt, his fault.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was low and raspy, like what a desert could sound like if it had a mouth.

"Saber?"

His face went still for a moment, then Kiritsugu grimaced and shook his head.

Six got the same answers when asked of Caster or Archer. The Assassin was the only one left. Kiritsugu saw confusion written on the Spartan's face for only a fraction of a second, like something didn't line up with what he said.

Regardless, he was the winner.

But… this didn't feel like a victory. Far from it.

The Spartan's eyes hardened, hatred for the man known as Kiritsugu Emiya beginning to well up inside of him. His finger slipped around the trigger.

Half a millimeter more to squeeze the trigger, intent on splattering the man's blood and brain matter against the wrecked concrete.

But something stayed his hand.

It was a subtle gesture, something almost incomprehensible, but he watched as Kiritsugu pulled his arms around him closer like he was trying to shield himself. Or rather what was in his arms.

The Spartan saw the boy, the tuft of red hair barely visible in Kiritsugu's grasp. In that moment, Six's anger diminished, but that cold demeanor still remained, finally remembering one final promise to a girl that gave him this opportunity to live once more.

_Thunk._

Kiritsugu looked down at what the Servant had given him. His eyes widened as he realized what it was. The perfect golden scabbard wreathed in blue enamel sat at his feet, the embodiment of a past king's utopia.

Avalon.

The man looked back up only to see that Assassin was gone, the Servant that stood before him had disappeared from Kiritsugu's sight. But that didn't matter.

Kiritsugu's fingers tentatively touched the object, feeling the remaining power within that could still be put to use. He gently placed the boy down, taking note of the serious injuries that littered his body.

He held Avalon in his hands, praying for another miracle as the Everdistant Utopia evaporated inside the boy's body and watching as his wounds were miraculously knit together.

Kiritsugu continued to cry, this time in joy, as fire and rain surrounded the both of them.

A life had been saved.

That was all that mattered for Kiritsugu Emiya.

* * *

**An hour before…**

Spartan-B312, designation: Noble Six.

True Name: Unknown.

Servant Class: Ą̸̩̲͎̮̟̤͈̟̼͔͍͒͗ś̵̨̡̡̩̬͇͇͔͈̏͌͂͊̐̌s̷̛̙͋͊̓̐̋̽̔͠͝å̴̢̲̲̪͙̙̲̠̺̤̬̦̃͊s̸̱͉͍̼͋̋̂̓̋̕͜͝s̶̛̯͈̳̟̫̥̽̾̿͠i̴͚̻̩̊̍̇̚͘ǹ̵̦̀̀̍̽͆̃̾̍̍̀̚?̸̺͙̟̇́̍̀̓͘͘͝

Noble Six blinked, waking up to the hellish landscape that surrounded him. Confusion and concern being the biggest feelings running through him right now.

What the _fuck_ happened?

The first thing he noticed was the heat against his skin, the next being that he was completely naked, and the third was something hanging off of his hands, it looked like a scabbard. The former being more concerning than the latter, that could easily be rectified with a change of clothes.

He rose to his feet, the sound of gravel crunching beneath his soles and the fire nearby kissing his bare skin. He felt warm, uncomfortably warm. That shouldn't be possible.

Unless…

Six flexed his fingers, briefly thinking back to that vision in the Grail. That fake Irisviel telling him about his own death returning him to the Throne.

And yet here he was.

_Fall of Reach._ The Noble Phantasm of Reach's last survivor. The gift that crystallized whatever legend that existed within his Spirit Origin, etched into his form as a Servant.

According to legends throughout time, animal sacrifices were made to the gods as offerings in return for their gifts and insight. But _human _offerings were rituals that neared the domain of gods, sacrifices like those couldn't go unnoticed even in an age of man for someone as blasphemous as him.

The sacrifices of Noble Team for Reach were these gifts. He himself was one of these gifts too.

Had he simply used one in a gamble for survival… and won?

The thought was almost too dizzying for him to comprehend.

Nevertheless, that was what happened now. He was alive in a body of flesh and blood, the "core" that made up the power of a Servant was still there, if somewhat dormant. Remnants of mana still flowed through his body, but the lifeline connecting himself and Kariya was suddenly severed.

In a way, he could call himself a… Demi-Servant? No, that didn't feel right.

Six shook his head, aimlessly walking towards some unknown place. Where did he go from here? He was as naked as the day he was born, thrown into an unknown world in a time far off from his own.

What was there to do next?

He looked down at the golden object in his left hand, not knowing how it came into his possession, but there was something compelling him to hold onto it.

A memory flashed before his eyes. Irisviel told him to return something to Kiritsugu… was he even alive though?

The Spartan continued walking, picking up a ragged cloth that somehow managed to survive the fires. He tied the ends around his waist as ash and gravel and glass crunched underneath his feet, every step reminding him of the chaos that surrounded him.

Not a survivor in sight. Only corpses.

Whoever had caused this was going to die, he'd make sure of that. It had to have been the remaining survivor of the war.

Someone had to have seen this all to the end, right? A Master that lived to the end.

The former Assassin came to a halt, sensing a strange rumbling beneath his feet. Something was wrong, and he didn't know what. Six scanned the surrounding area, seeing nothing in sight as the world continued to burn.

Then he saw it.

From the wreckage, something crawled forth from the flames. Naked and covered in thick black sludge, whatever wasn't covered was stained reddish-brown skin that looked way too muddled to be natural. The hair was long and flowing, thick and matted like the mane of a lion.

He recognized that figure anywhere.

"Archer…?" the Spartan whispered to himself as those glowing eyes seemed to pierce through to him, their eyes locked together even from so far away, unknowing of the other's intentions.

He looked shorter even from this distance, his limbs leaner and more lithe than the expanse of muscles that rippled across his body, but that face and hair was all too familiar.

Neither one moved, neither one made a sound, neither one even breathed.

Seconds passed, then a minute. Then two.

Whatever remained of Archer suddenly turned away, disappearing into the flames and gone from the Spartan's sight. Noble Six looked back at the trail that stood before him, his legs carrying him forward through the infernal expanse.

Something bumped by his feet, making a light clicking sound as it slid along the wreckage. It was a gun, a Contender by the looks of it. The Spartan bent down and picked it up, wiping the ashen surface off with a hand before checking inside.

A single shot was inside. Six closed the gun and kept it by his side, the Contender in his right and the sheath in his left. If he found Kiritsugu, he'd have to wager whether to give the artifact in his hands to the man, put a bullet between his eyes, or both.

Either way, he'd be fulfilling his promise.

Soon enough, he saw the man in the distance, wandering about with a zombified look in his eyes, completely devoid of emotion and unaware of his own surroundings before crouching over a pile of rubble off into the distance. Was he looking for something?

Assassin felt something in his chest, anger if he was correct. He made his way over to the man, his steps silent even amidst the rubble. The former Master of Saber seemed transfixed with what he was doing.

It started to rain, water droplets bounced against his skin and soaking whatever clothes he had left on him. He'd have to make this quick, lest he find out whether former Servants could get hypothermia.

The Magus Killer didn't seem to care or even notice as the Spartan finally got within his line of distance, as if hyper-focused on the task at hand. He needed some way to get his attention.

_Click!_

The hammer of the Contender pulled back. Kiritsugu looked up to see a very pissed Spartan.

**-oOo-**

_In his final moments, Kariya Matou had a dream. _

_The dream of memories, belonging to the Servant one was bound to. Perhaps Assassin's original Master had a dream like this. _

_But where Kirei Kotomine had dreamt of the end, Kariya Matou started at the beginning. _

_He found himself standing inside a dark room, the sterile scent of artificially pumped oxygen reached his nostrils as he breathed in deep. Machinery around him beeped rhythmically in tune with his own heartbeat._

_Kariya stared into the glass, weary and tired eyes stared back, for what lay behind it bore a heartbeat quite like his own. _

_A child, male and not even a single year old, floating around in a reinforced glass container holding some kind of jade green solution. _

_Around their tiny face was an oxygen mask hooked up to a tube and water-sealed fiber optic wiring that ran all the way to the bottom of the panel, pumping that precious resource into the child's lungs and diffusing the waste out into the room. _

_There was familiarity. Kariya sensed a kinship with this child, despite knowing they were feelings of the man whose eyes he was looking through. _

_His eyes were closed, asleep but still alive. The subtle twitches and kicks from their tiny legs told him so, nerves and muscles that would become overwhelming potential. _

_Something in the back of his mind told him that this child had been crafted, not simply developed with something as inane as cloning or what Kariya could understand as the creation of homunculi. _

_This was something far more special, something that the man had a special bond to. _

_The child's growth was temporarily stunted for the time being, unable to age for the time being until the man's plan was finally put in motion. _

_The old man inspected himself, the uniform he wore was grey and minimalistic, simply his Army uniform. He cautiously chose not to wear any of his medals or ribbons for a specific reason. If he wanted this to work, he had to appear on their side, to play by their rules. _

_A dull flash of blue made itself known out of the corner of his eye. Kariya turned to see a blue orb encased in dual spiraling rings. His mind immediately went to the word "__**AI**__"._

"_We've finally arrived?" his mouth opened and spoke, his voice as tired as his face. The construct paused in its motions and flickered for a moment. A confirmation, "Good. I can only hope this goes well, make sure to secure this room until I return. Once they authorize this… he's all yours." _

_The man turned back, listening as the doors hissed and slid open, tunnel with flimsy elastic walls greeted him on the other side, eerily resembling the texture of an umbilical cord. He strode forth with purpose nevertheless until the door of an airlock greeted him on the other side. _

_He couldn't take a Pelican, not as stealthy nor was he here for an extended time. A simple meeting, get in and get out with authorization. _

_The doors slid open, blinding him momentarily as the stark white reflective walls dilated his pupils. His eyes refocused and the man stepped inside, led by an assistance AI that supervised the area of the ship he boarded. _

_Before long, he found himself sitting in front of an ebony conference table, on it was a carafe of water and a small number of cups, the entire room was a five-diameter bubble bisected by a floor of metal grating. The door closed behind him, sealing him inside what was known as a Faraday cage. _

_The man ran a hand through his thinning grey hair, contemplating the situation he was in and partially uncomfortable as he poured himself a drink. He checked the watch around his wrist: 0455. _

_Before long, three people entered, the white walls sliding aside before finally closing. _

_A graying man in his forties, sitting on his right, drinking from a golden flask filled with cheap whiskey. Rear Admiral Rich. _

_Another man that moved with the gait of a panther now sitting at his left, long-legged strides from extended work in microgravity. Captain Gibson. _

_A woman in her nineties, but looked so much older. Her eyes simultaneously cold and burning like dry ice, she was frail and looked as though a slight breeze could knock her over at any given moment. But she was the most dangerous woman in this room. _

_Vice Admiral Parangosky. _

"_You better have one hell of a reason for dragging us all here through back channels, Colonel," the woman's voice was old, scratchy, and bitter. In short, she scared the hell out of him. _

_He might as well start now, placing four reader tablets on the table. _

"_Please, Admiral," he looked to her, nodding back down at the chair opposing him, "If you would." _

"_Very well, I'll bite," she growled, taking a seat. _

_All eyes were on him. _

_He had their interest enough for them to come all the way down here. Now all he had to do was grab their attention, listening as the men and women that surrounded him bickered lightly with one another. _

_Breathing in as if diving underwater, the Colonel took the plunge. _

_In just under an hour, the groundwork for the Spartan-III project began its manifestation. A skeleton of sorts was finally put to work, now all was needed was the resources to get the job done. _

_Onyx, Kurt-051, Mendez. All he needed for his debt to be repaid. _

_With everything said and done, James Ackerson left _The Point of No Return_. A ghost of a smile etched itself on his face, as if claiming a victory that was surely within reach. _

_His vision suddenly went dark, pain flooded his body as he opened his eyes._

* * *

Kariya Matou woke up, the slithering of worms had all but dulled to slight wriggling as he found himself sitting on a bench. He inspected his surroundings, finding himself in the same park where he ran into Aoi and Rin.

"Acker...son…?" he muttered to himself. The name was foreign to Kariya.

The man shook his head, unknowing of what that dream even was nor did he want to know. What mattered now was…

No...

He stared back down at his hand, now devoid of the command seals engraved upon it.

Tears fell upon his dirty jacket, his only remaining eye widened in grief at his own failure. Sakura would end up becoming Zouken's plaything, Rin would grow up without a father, and Aoi…

The Matou had long since accepted his role from the woman's point of view, and even though he absolutely despised Tokiomi. Rin would stay strong, he was certain of it, but Aoi would be absolutely crushed by the revelation. And even now there was nothing he could do.

A slight breeze picked up, blowing back the hood that covered the man's disfigured face and pallor skin, sickly white hair messy as slumped over. Utterly defeated.

"You look like shit," a voice spoke up. Kariya blinked, looking up to see someone he never thought he'd see.

"A-assassin?"

The Servant stood before him, now wearing dusty old clothes that he had picked off from somewhere, but it was still him, "So I guess you're the winner, huh?"

The taller man paused before slowly nodding, "It was a pyrrhic victory, but I suppose I am."

Kariya laughed bitterly, looking down at his hands, "I could see the fire even from here. What the hell happened over there?"

"Nothing you caused or of your concern," the Servant curtly replied, his eyes downcast for a brief moment before looking back up, before adding, "I'd kill you for that stunt you pulled with that Command Seal, but I believe I made a promise to you beforehand."

His eyes widened.

Sakura. There was… there was still a chance.

The former Servant watched as the man tried to stand back up, only to find himself both too weak to, looking as though he was on the verge of death could do nothing but spew that tainted blood from his mouth and recline back against the pillar holding him up.

"T-the estate is a long walk from here," Kariya straightened himself back up, pointing at one of the roads. Assassin followed the direction of his finger to see a one road among many, but only one that went down the direction Kariya had pointed, "Down the road, take a right as soon as you reach the end and keep walking. You'll see a mansion, the big creepy one."

Assassin quickly took a mental note of this and nodded, "I'll be back shortly."

"Before you go-" the Servant paused, turning back to Kariya as he added one more thing, "Follow the noise, that's where you'll find Zouken's _'Training grounds'_..."

With that, Kariya watched as the man quickly left. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the bench's support as bloodstained hands traced across the concrete beside him.

He'll wait for Sakura to come back.

In the meantime, Kariya Matou would rest, drifting off to peaceful sleep and dreaming of an impossible future.

**-oOo-**

This must be the place.

The feeling of passing through a Boundary field sent shivers down his spine as Noble Six kicked down the door. The wooden barricade splintered apart with barely any effort on his part, listening to the broken pieces skidding across the floor before coming to a halt.

For once, Six decided to neglect the subtlety of things. If what Kariya said was true, then he had to get this girl out of here as soon as possible.

Stepping inside with the Thompson Contender in hand, his eyes scanning warily in the dark as the wooden floors creaked beneath his weight. The house was barely lit only by the moonlight, no one was either home or made an effort to come down and greet him.

The former Servant still had one last promise to keep, even if it was from someone that forced his hand. As much as he hated Kariya Matou for the use of that Command Seal, he never disobeyed an order.

Noble Six listened closely, lowering his pistol and closing his eyes. The faint sound of buzzing. The ground was still, devoid of vibration to suggest anything was on the same floor as him.

So why did he feel like he was being watched?

Six followed the source of the noise, making his way down a narrow corridor until he came upon a door. The sound of buzzing was at its loudest behind it.

An overwhelming sense of deja vu ran through the Spartan's mind, but he ignored it, focusing on the matter at hand. Exhaling, he turned the knob on the door and pushed it open.

"...!"

Noble Six immediately regretted opening the door, forcing back the urge to vomit just by the pure stench alone. The slithering and beating of countless wings and clicking of infinite ravenous teeth filled his ears louder than a thundering battlefield.

He blinked and took a breath before stepping back inside. The Spartan's aim swiveled between every crack and corner of the room, taking notice of the sticky green luminescence that made up the basement.

That's what he saw the worms at the bottom of the pit.

Hundreds. No… _thousands._

Thousands of them squirming about along the stony floors as their teeth clicked like demonic drumbeats. Squirming masses of piranha-shaped worms with armored carapaces and flesh-colored abominations vaguely phallic and covered in thick slime.

This had to be the place.

The Spartan cautiously stepped towards the staircase, his steps echoing with the sound bouncing off the stone walls. He lowered the pistol in his hand with each slow step, attuning his ears to the myriad of sickening sounds.

His foot was met with resistance before a crunching sound gave way beneath his feet. Six resisted the urge to cringe at the sound and smell as he began to wade forth through the sea of filth. The girl had to be here somewhere, his intuition wouldn't betray him this time.

Eventually, his ears picked up a sound. Breathing.

It was quiet, harsh, and weak, but no doubt the breathing of a child.

Six trudged through the swarm as if through a mud pit, summoning forth only a portion of MJOLNIR to protect him from the vicious bites and clawing of worms. The techsuit that made up the underarmor of his most used Phantasm was the only thing summoned, decidedly conserving what was left of his mana.

The former Servant had seen many things, atrocities committed by those heartless aliens and countless worlds glassed, but he couldn't even compare that to what he was seeing before his eyes. Six was always away from the proverbial fire as it burned, it was what kept him alive… and yet here he was smack in the center of it.

His hand grasped something, covered in the same sickly mucus that perspired from the worms, but what he managed to grab ahold of was different. It was warm… and there was a pulse. An arm.

The worms hissed softly at him as the man dug both arms deep into the abyss, feeling the dull ache of those phallic creatures attempting to sink their teeth into his flesh before his hands met flesh once more.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled and tugged with as much strength he could muster without breaking the girl's fragile bones. The worms' assault became ever more frantic, as if screaming for him to stop. They wouldn't let the Spartan take away their favorite meal without a fight.

He finally pulled her out, his hands wrapped around her underarms with as much gentleness as humanly possible. Her skin was pallor and sickly, covered in a thick membrane of mucus and sweat and whatever other filth lay at the bottom of the pit.

Her hair was a light shade of violet, likely altered by magecraft. Her eyes were a similar color, but they appeared glassy and lifeless, unfocused as she seemingly stared off into space.

The girl's mind had shut itself away, likely to cope with the pain of her trials as she had resigned herself to her fate.

This was sick. Whatever had done this to her couldn't possibly be human. Vicious thoughts ran through the normally cold mind of the Spartan as he carried the girl in his arms. It was like carrying a rag doll.

Eventually, they reached the staircase. His armor faded away as the worms were out of reach. Various worms still clung to her body as he gently placed her on the stone steps, pulling them off gently until they were detached from her skin before violently tossing them against the stone wall, listening to them splat as they exploded against it.

"How awfully rude of you, _young man_," an old voice said, the words came out rasped and laced with venom, "Don't you know it's dangerous to go around messing with another's belongings?"

Six snapped upwards, the gun in his hand now pointed at the source of the voice. The frame hidden in the shadows told him it was a frail and balding old man in a robe, but the presence he seemed to give off was no different than the worms in that pit.

"Ah... you're that Assassin _he's _been talking about, eh?" the old man tilted his head in intrigue, "Meeting in the flesh, you are so much more underwhelming than I had initially believed, but I know you've caused quite a stir if recent events are any indication."

The man stepped out of the shadows, revealing the form the frame belonged to. Sickly gray and wrinkled skin and eyes like glowing yellow pinpricks surrounded by black sclera stared at the Servant for a good long while.

_Evil_ was the first thought that came to mind.

"Are you going to shoot me?" the old man chuckled, a disgustingly wet and raspy sound, "By all means, do so, I'm really in no mood to fight today."

The taller of the two stared back, his hand still gripping the handle of the pistol yet there was no effort to pull the trigger. The Matou, at least he assumed this was him, showed neither fear nor resistance, he seemed… frighteningly unconcerned.

"Tsk," the old man clicked his tongue as the Spartan lowered his arm, instead setting aside the pistol and focusing on the girl, "Did Kariya send you? Foolish boy, he should know that what he wants is impossible."

Six ignored the elder, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around the naked girl in an attempt to cover whatever modesty that remained. She had already been violated, her mind utterly broken by the rape of those creatures. This was all he could do for her.

With ease, he picked her up gently, easing her arms onto his shoulders and wrapping around his neck. Her chin rested against the crook while the Spartan's arms wrapped around her legs for support. He picked up the pistol with her other hand, still pointing it at the Matou as he made his way up the stairs.

"There's no need to point that thing at me. Take her and leave, I have no more use for her, " the old man shook his head disappointedly, as if scolding a young child, before looking back up at Six, "Oh don't give me that look. It doesn't matter any longer, you have what you came for, so leave."

There was no force behind the old man's tone as Six brushed aside the shorter man and continued walking, reaching the doorknob and turned it open, having tucked the antique pistol underneath his arm.

He stopped at the door, his eyes barely hiding his contained anger before he finally spoke.

"She's not yours to keep," was all the Spartan said. His voice devoid of emotion, it was simply a truth that didn't need belief, words that carried an insurmountable conviction.

The door opened, the former Servant stepped through the door, stopping as the opposing man's voice stopped him once more.

"So long as that girl still lives-" the Matou's voice came out dripping with malice, but it held no more doubt than the Spartan's own words, "-She will _always _be mine."

Six's hand twitched slightly, not enough for either man to notice. He was tempted to pull the trigger right then and there, but this man wasn't worth the bullet. There was something off about this old man. Something almost… inhuman.

He didn't care about having a gun being shoved into his face. No, he treated it as if it was the best joke someone told him in a long while.

"What are you waiting for? The door's just down the hall," the old man grinned an evil toothy grin.

The wooden floors echoed with each step as Six began his exit out of this hellish place with the girl in his arms, a blurry blue shape appeared out the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see a young boy with messy blue hair and beige sleepwear.

"Go back upstairs, Shinji," the old man's voice spoke behind the former Servant, his voice echoing throughout what he thought was an empty house with a voice that carried authority, "We're finished with business anyway."

Shinji Matou, as Six learned, nodded nervously and quickly made his back to his room. Even the Spartan was able to gleam the underlying layer of terror beneath that boy's eyes, he _knew_ that his grandfather was at least not human, and perhaps the Matou patriarch knew that the boy knew.

There was no respect in this place. Only fear.

The entire house was a deathtrap, those worms were used for some sort of sick project. Considering the mass amounts that lived there, this certainly wasn't the first time that old man had used these things as some sort of food source or breeding pit.

Six was greeted by the cool air breezing past him once more as he stepped out of the estate. Pushing the gate open and turning back, the Spartan was almost tempted to torch this place to the ground.

Too bad he didn't have a lighter on him.

All he could do was continue walking, the soles of undersized shoes echoing throughout the darkness as he felt the subtle heartbeat of the little girl in his hands softly beating against his chest.

_Don't get sentimental-_

He shook his head, continuing to walk from the estate to his former Master. The walk was roughly under an hour, completely silent as if the entire city had died in that fire or simply slept, the Spartan was unsure which was more cruel. But right now, all that mattered was his orders, nothing more nor less.

The only sure sign that the girl was even alive was the rhythmic sound of near-silent breathing and a constant heartbeat, otherwise she was as still as a stone. The Spartan turned his attention to the road before him, seeing the scenery beginning to subtly change until it became more and more familiar. He was getting closer.

Afterwards, then what?

_Focus on the now, Six. _

He shook his head, clearing those questioning thoughts from his mind and focused on the present. The future would have to wait.

Before long, the Spartan stood before the motionless form of Kariya Matou, his eyes closed and head lolled back, resting his back against the support behind him. Gently placing the girl on the seat next to him, Six stepped back and saw that he had finally fulfilled his end of the bargain.

That was good enough. They were even now, he could probably get the kid to a foster home if he didn't have long to live anyway. This wasn't his business.

He turned around and began to walk away, only for the soft voice of a child to speak up.

"Uncle Kariya…?" she finally said, the rustling of clothes followed after, "Uncle Kariya… why won't you wake up?"

Six froze, his blood running cold at the realization that finally caught up to him. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned back to look at the pair. The girl was trying to wake up the man… and Six noticed he wasn't breathing.

He slowly stepped closer to the motionless man, carefully placing his fingers around his neck and feeling closely: no pulse.

Shortly after Six had left, Kariya Matou passed away in his sleep. The only thing left living and standing before the Spartan was the little girl that he had rescued, her small frame curled up in the lap of the man too weak to have saved her.

She wept no tears. Her mind was now barely coming to lucidity, but her eyes appeared as glassy as ever.

The Spartan looked down at her before noticing a crimson shape out of the corner of his eye. Next to the Matou's hand was traces of what looked like blood. His blood.

Two words written by a shaking and sloppy hand.

"_Protect her."_

Six stared down at those words, his gaze refusing to break with the final message that Kariya Matou had left him before he died. The Spartan swallowed, absorbing the information as he realized what exactly the former Master had done.

Kariya Matou had no wish for the Holy Grail, but he knew there was something that he wanted. He knew he wouldn't live long and that he couldn't save the girl on his own. So he entrusted her to the only person he had trusted his wish to in those final moments.

That was the wish of Kariya Matou. Protect Her.

And the Spartan never once disobeyed an order.

Almost on cue with his realization, the girl turned back to the taller man. She stared up at the giant that stood in front of her. His body was still as a statue, the only clue that this was even a person at all was the clouds of frosted air leaving his lips with each breath.

Then he took a step forward, arms reaching out to the girl as his mission finally became clear.

The girl, Sakura, knew that her uncle had died, she was supposed to resign to her fate in that moment. A Tohsaka that had been traded for the Matous to secure their lineage, her mind and body violated for a whole year.

But now the cold air nipping at bare skin told her she was no longer in the "comfort" of the Matou estate. Her mind focused once more as she felt a strange pressure against her back and legs closely with a sense of weightlessness.

She realized she was now being carried by the scary man with cold eyes. Did he kill Uncle Kariya?

No… she wouldn't be alive if that was the case. The man she saw so long yet so shortly ago had looked like a withered zombie the last time she saw him, there was no way he would've been able to rescue her from that bad place, from Zouken Matou. That only meant…-

"What's your name?" he asked her, his voice void of emotion. The tone almost sounded just like hers. But to the girl, it was the warmest voice she had heard ever since she left her old family. .

"Ma-" she stopped herself, having already abandoned the name of Tohsaka, so why would she continue keeping the name of the people who did those things to her? "Sakura."

"Sakura…" he repeated the word, her name, "I see. I'll look after you for now, Sakura."

Six's response seemed to have some kind of effect on her. As he continued walking, her arms grasped tighter around his massive frame, fingers kneading into his shirt as the collar suddenly began to grow damp, followed by sniffling sounds.

The Spartan did nothing more, for the two had a long walk to go once more. They needed to find a place to stay for the night.

**-oOo-**

"He's gone," Zouken Matou said, watching as the man who walked away with the former Matou disappear from his sight. The old man sighed to himself, seeing a year's worth of effort simply walking away from his own home, "Your plan better be worth more than that girl."

An audible thump at the old worm's side, a tall thing that could barely be called a man stood at his side, taller than the person who made off with the girl, "It certainly will, old friend."

His voice was deeper and older and in possession of a body made as the epitome that humanity is capable of. Messy and unkempt hair trailed down his back and stopped at his waist, dressed in a sheet as his body was far too large for the clothes in the Matou Estate's wardrobes.

"But tell me," the larger man, his face hidden in the shadows while Zouken looked up at the milky white moon hanging over head, "What did you think of him, of Assassin?"

The old man snickered to himself, what had the mud done to his old friend to make this man his sole obsession? Nevertheless, he humored him, "He looked and sounded unremarkable, but he is a dangerous one just from presence alone, if I suspect he is what I think he may be."

Zouken shook his head, reminiscing on the recent memory of having the Mystic Code of Kiritsugu Emiya pointed at his face. If he hadn't kept his cool nor bluffed his nonchalance at the former Servant, a single bullet would've undone everything he had built and hoped to achieve.

But Zouken Matou was familiar with death, he drew closer to it with every passing year.

His body was in a state of unbeing, worms constantly deteriorating and reforming with the magical energy that he stole and absorbed from others. Sakura was a consistent source for his worms, if a bit unripe compared to adult magi.

"Assassin was the only other to escape from the war completely unscathed. His body is truly a miracle, not that I believed in them myself," the man stroked his bare chin underneath the shadows.

Now he had to fall back on the former Servant that had been simultaneously warped and incarnated into a body of flesh. The man once known as Caster had already set his plan in motion the moment he had crawled out of the sickly mud, having already found a vessel for the Grail to be stored in.

"And why didn't you kill him?"

"Acquiring this foreign body took nearly every ounce of my magical energy, but Assassin had come out with only inklings left," the taller man grit his teeth, "Had we fought then or now, there was a chance that he could've killed me."

Zouken nodded. It made sense. Aside from rare exceptional cases, Caster never entered a confrontation without the likelihood of absolute victory.

"And this war, the next one after," the old aberration turned to the monster made flesh standing beside him, "It will not require an heir?"

The giant standing next to Zouken only hummed, looking back down, "Patience, Zouken. Simply trust in me and the Grail will be yours. By the time the next war comes around within the next half-century, our plan will be ready."

Zouken gave a look of skepticism, "I doubt even someone like you could manage this."

The former Servant barked a laugh, "So little faith, Matou, where's your sense of wonder?"

He only answered with silence.

Nevertheless, the giant gave the magus his farewells before taking to the rooftops and disappearing, intent on returning to his new apprentice. Zouken only watched as his old associate was finally gone.

The old man sighed to himself, closing the door behind him and returning to the safety of his workshop, looking down at where he had spotted the former Assassin that had attracted his old friend's attention.

An anomaly that Caster could never discern the identity of, he was an object of obsession for this exact reason. In the blink of an eye, he was able to discern every other heroic spirit that partook in the Grail War.

But Zouken had an idea of who that Servant was, or rather _what_. Everything that the Assassin used and the way they acted seemed too in place with the modern world, guns and knives were used like second nature while Noble Phantasms were treated like tools.

Only a soldier would have that level of pragmatism, an unsung hero that treated everything in their possession like it was a step towards an objective. He was likely one among millions, his drive and desire to finish his mission could've been strong enough to ascend him to the Throne of Heroes.

But patriotism was a trivial prerequisite for a soldier. He'd still be one among millions. No, his presence was a lot more simple and tenfold more dangerous.

Still, the Matou patriarch couldn't help but snicker at the situation he was in.

"We'll see each other again, this time with the girl in tow-" Zouken sat and reclined into his favorite seat, staring off into the starry night, his blackened eyes and worn teeth almost glowing, "_-Guardian of Alaya_."

**-oOo-**

_**Tap tap tap!**_

The man stood before yet another house, knocking on the door with a single free hand. He decided to take a more diplomatic approach, knowing that the owners of this household wouldn't exactly be fond of random strangers ruining their insurance.

He saw this place a couple times, having had to track the person down here after formulating a plan that was never put into action.

Now he had all the time in the world to come to this place, but not with the original intention in mind. The man was here for more important matters, he was sure the people here were hospitable to allow him inside.

The sound of a doorknob turning, then the release of a latch as the door swung open. The cold quickly rushed in but there was still an essence of warmth inside that remained. Their eyes locked for only a moment, one knew the other while the latter recognized what the former was.

Neither one made a move, but the cold expression on the taller man's face withered somewhat, his hands grasping tighter around the figure in his arms. He was pleading at this point.

Before the boy inside could say anything, the sound of footsteps came from behind.

"Waver dear, what in the world are you doing?" the voice of an elderly woman exclaimed, "Don't you know it's cold… outside...?"

Martha and Waver "MacKenzie" both saw the desperate look of a soot-covered man, his clothes filthy and only clutching the unconscious body of a little girl in his hands, her body covered in a rancid muck. They didn't even need to guess what happened to the both of them, the fire was all too visible even from such a far distance away.

"Please…" the man's voice was weary, "We need a place to stay, if only for tonight."

Martha and the young man looked at one another, the latter much more cautious but nevertheless nodded.

"Come inside," the old woman's voice was warm and motherly, but her eyes were just as resolute as his own, "I'll prepare a bath for the girl and some tea for the both of you."

The Spartan nodded, stepping into the MacKenzie household as the Sakura was passed off to the woman. She disappeared, leaving the two remaining.

Finally they spoke.

"Waver Velvet," the former Assassin spoke, looking him up and down, "You're still alive."

"I was ordered to, Servant," Waver's eyes hardened, the fear behind his voice finally disappearing after gauging that the man was not here to kill him, "What are you doing here? Did you win the war?"

He nodded.

"How? How are you even still alive?!" the boy wondered incredulously, but keeping his voice low as not to attract unwanted attention.

"That-" the Spartan clicked his tongue, "-is a… _very_ long story."

"...Tell me."

He proceeded to do just that.

The summoning, Caster, the Grail's evil, his reincarnation. All of it. He omitted Kiritsugu's survival and Archer's following incarnation, the boy was too frail to deal with those issues himself.

Nevertheless, Waver Velvet listened. He listened to the former Assassin's story and knew that he too was ordered to live. The magus didn't care for the man, nor did the Spartan care particularly for Velvet either.

But he still listened and took it to heart.

If another Grail War started, it had to be stopped. It had to be permanently dismantled from the very roots, like a weed infesting a garden.

The former Servant finally finished. The magus said nothing, only looking down as the realization that this whole war was pointless to begin with finally set in, his eyes seemed as though he was on the verge of a breakdown, but his resolve held firm.

Six may not have cared, but he at least did respect that he kept his bearings.

Waver only watched as the man excused himself, the magus gave him directions to a spare bedroom. Six only nodded as he got up. He stunk like shit, he needed a shower first.

Heading upstairs lead to another washroom, where a small showerhead just a head shorter stood. Six peeled off the ruined clothes and tossed them into the trash, grabbing the closest towel and folding it nearby before stepping into the running water, letting out a sigh as warm water poured off his body. It was only short of pure bliss.

He let the water run for sometime, washing himself thoroughly before stepping out drying himself off before he heard a knock on the door.

"They might be a bit small, but they should work for now," a muffled old voice behind the door said, the sound of footsteps receding as the former Servant was left to his own devices.

Opening the door, the man found a set of folded clothes lying at the edge of the bathroom. Picking them up, Six saw that it was only a short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He put them on without complaint, seeing that it was better than nothing. Satisfied with his state of appearance even if the shirt was a bit tight, he made his way back down and to the spare bedroom.

Pushing the half-opened door, the Spartan was greeted by a rather large bed even for someone of his height and stature. The room was dark, the windows covered by curtains, but Six was able to make out the outlines of a nearby closet and various other furniture while empty video game cartridges lay scattered about. But his main focus was the bed.

Noble Six sighed before unceremoniously collapsing onto the bed, asleep before his body even hit the mattress. The former Servant didn't know how tired he had been, how exhausted his body was, until he finally entered the house. The entirety of the war had now caught up to his new body of flesh and blood, and the toll paid dearly.

For the Spartan, the rest was well deserved.

It wasn't until the sun had finally risen and hanging high in the sky did he finally open his eyes. He spotted something purple out of the corner of his eye breathing softly and curling up against his side as he had been asleep.

The girl once known as Sakura Matou had found him as he slept, taking comfort in his presence for whatever reason unknown to him. He was less disturbed by the unknowing feeling and more surprised.

"Protect her…" he echoed Kariya's final mission given to him. His cold gaze stared down at the girl's now clothed form, actually looking like she was truly alive, "Yeah, I can do that."

He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, grabbing a nearby blanket and placing it around her. Six would have a lot to work on if he was to accomplish a mission on such a long term scale.

But for now, maybe a little bit more rest wouldn't kill him.

The sun continued to rise higher and higher over Fuyuki city. Civilians took notice of the aftermath of the fire, as if waking up from a distant nightmare. Soon, they began to rebuild, as mankind always does.

The first day of the rest of Six's life.

So many more to go.

**End of Part 1**


	15. Notes & Materials

_**Author's Notes**_

First thing I'd like to get off my chest before I begin this segment of the story, I'm not that good at explaining things directly to an audience, be it on paper or in real life, being what one would call a hermit of sorts. Forgive me if there are any misconceptions that I have not cleared up proceeding from here-on out or if I had not answered anything. If you wish to ask me something after this chapter pertaining to the story, do take it to Private Messages.

Alright, moving on and beginning, here we go.

Starting Howling Dark was an... interesting task. The prototype was fundamentally much different than the finished product (of which I will explain in the Scrapped Ideas section of this chapter), one that I had decided to bum-rush and write incoherently for the first two months before realizing that I had written myself into a corner in which I couldn't get out from (I had stopped at the prototype Chapter 7 when I realized my mistake). That was when I needed to get to thinking how I wanted to do this story, how to start it properly and how I wanted it to end. I needed to do something that hadn't done in 10 years: _I had to plan the whole story; beginning, middle, end_.

To start off, my first ever fanfiction was written when I was 10 years old. Not on any websites since I was poor as shit at the time, all that I had to go off of was playing Halo 2, 3, & Reach at my best friend's house, I had written my first fic, a Halo story taking place 10 years after Halo 3 (this was way before Halo 4 hit the shelves, so I was going in blind). Needless to say, it was grammatically and structurally terrible, 80 pages long, written in a variety of different pen inks and pencil leads, and the carpal-tunnel syndrome developing on my right hand was a painful learning experience. Nevertheless, Halo was where my storywriting hobby started.

Though things changed, Halo had sat at the back of my mind for quite some time, most of it being because I had then enlisted into the military (financial and educational reasons, nothing fancy or patriotic) and had to focus on training. When I was sent off for technical training back in 2018, I met someone who proceeded to introduce me into the Fate series. At the time, I had vaguely heard about it, the only name at the time being "Saber" and "Holy Grail War" after one episode of Studio DEEN's early adaption. Eventually, he convinced me to watch it now that it was being animated by Ufotable, which the only thing I had heard from them was "Unlimited Budget Works", so I expected nothing but quality. I had Netflix at the time so I though, "Hey, what the hell?", started with Fate/Zero, and clicked Play.

Flash forward to the present. I have read the Visual Novels (Fate/Stay Night AND Hollow Ataraxia), the Light Novels of Fate/Zero, Apocrypha, and Strange Fake, and as of posting am now waiting for the Lostbelt chapters of Fate Grand Order. Needless to say, I became a fan.

So I had then checked on FFN to see that there was a crossover section for Fate and my old flame Halo. I was... not satisfied with what I saw, I will be perfectly honest. So I thought to myself, "Hey, why don't I contribute to it? I'm a... good enough writer, right?". To which I then looked at my past fics sitting in this account and cringed in slight disgust (nothing wrong with the worlds that I built my stories in, just my lack of planning and overall foresight). Cut to 7 prototype chapters all improvised and hitting a roadblock before realizing, "I need to stop this."

It took me about 3-4 months of planning, both the parts of Zero and Stay Night, while the writing process took about 6 months. I had managed to bring a good friend of mine into the Fate fandom in the process, HeyMrJack33, who provided the motivation and looked through my stories for errors, alongside giving some advice on where to proceed and his general opinion on the story overall. Suffice to say, the story would be different without his help. Thanks Jack, you're the best and I know you're reading this.

While this is my story, a lot of influence was pulled from two stories that I will hold as my all-time favorites. Both being JoJo's Bizarre Adventure crossovers with Fate, the first being "Requiem for the Holy Grail" and the other being "A Holy War", both of which dealt with elements that caused me to think about the state of my own writing. One was more technical and thorough, while the other was more raw, unfiltered, and visceral in its storytelling, aspects that I could wholly respect and aspire to.

One of my biggest hurdles that I had to overcome in this story was, as a certain professor says, the Whydunnit. Why does Six, or Saber, or Caster want or need to do the things they wanted to do in this particular setting or situation? I had to step into their shoes (Caster and Six being the toughest due to the liberties I decided to take) and see the situation from a king or hero or killer's perspective and adjust accordingly, with conversations being my weakness in writing.

Writing fight scenes was where I thought my work shone, fighting was simple, there was always an end result: death, injury, escape, or even the very rare truce. I didn't have to think as hard, let the battle flow according to how I thought they'd fight, much of the writing was inspired by the Stay Night VN, particularly the Sparks Liner High ending. Music helped set a lot of the tone for what I wanted to write. Halo 3 ODST's soundtrack for Six's quiet moments, the Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II's OST for Caster and Ryuunosuke, Ougon no Ou (Gilgamesh's original theme) with Saber and Six's battle for the first part to capture the urban and gritty beginning, followed by Kara no Kyoukai music to encapsulate a climbing yet somber fight.

* * *

_**Q&A and Misconceptions (Starting from the beginning reviews):**_

_**Note: Not all questions will be answered as to prevent spoilers to the sequel. **_

**What does Six look like and what is his** **age?**

\- At first I wanted him to look like a mix of Noble Team, each with varying parts of their distinctive looks, before deciding on who I wanted him to be as a person rather than some nameless amalgamation. If I had to put it best, his skin is very pale from the time spent in his armor and away from the sun, his hair is a dark auburn with steel-gray eyes. He stands at about 6' 4", making him a bit short for a Spartan-III, though MJOLNIR puts him at about 6' 10-11". For a Nasuverse comparison, if he was drawn by Takeuchi, he would look like a taller, rougher, and shorter-haired version of Gawain's original concept art.

As for his age, cross-referencing from when Beta Company was formed, Six joined at a rather younger age than most. As a Servant, he was summoned at the peak of his time as an Assassin, alongside the concept of "Lone Wolf", putting him at around the age of 18-reaching-19, but can pass for early-twenties.

**Where's the Stat Sheet for Noble 6? **

\- Scroll down.

**Why did Kiritsugu manage to spot Assassin at the docks?**

\- For the same reason he managed to spot Hundred-Faces in Fate/Zero. Thing is, Hassan-i Sabbah has a higher Presence Concealment than Six, so it would've been much easier for Kerry to see him.

**Why doesn't Six use guns or UNSC weapons?**

\- I keep getting this question a lot, so I might as well get it out of the way. He _can_ use guns, but it's due to the circumstances of where he is summoned. Japan has a strict firearm policy, so Six couldn't just stop and pick up a gat all willy-nilly. Kiritsugu had to have his weapons illegally ported into Fuyuki to even use them, while the Yakuza group in Fuyuki was headed by the Fujimuras, one which I was unable to get information and had overlooked. Six's use of firearms near the end of the story was from the weapons he had picked off of Maiya's corpse right around the same time he had found Kirei's body, which is also where he got the Black Keys to show to Kariya.

The UNSC weapons schtick is a lot easier to answer. A UNSC gun is simply a gun, a manufactured tool that pretty much every soldier had on them during the war against the Covenant. They were not formally named weapons that Six found and kept to create a legend of like Balmung, Gae Bolg, or Excalibur. There has been an argument being Billy the Kid's Thunderer NP being a gun NP, but the lore explicitly states in his case that the gun is not the NP, but rather it's the concept of "This gun fired by Billy", focusing on his technique and marksmanship rather than the killing power of the gun itself.

Another argument is the subject of EMIYA being an Archer using swords, so why can't Assassin use guns? Simple reason: Six doesn't have Unlimited Blade Works, he can't use Projection nor does he share Shirou's Sword Origin and Element, while the idea of a "Gun Origin/Element" seems... No. Alongside that, even if he could project a weapon, that would involve projecting every single part inside the weapon, as well as the painstaking process of the bullets that the weapon can fire, and maintaining its manifestation on the physical plane since Projection is essentially creating a degraded and hollow fake from nothing but mana.

**Thom?**

\- The Noble Six before him, Assassin took the name out of convenience due to the lack of his own.

**Assassin's Personality.**

\- Six's personality was a tough thing to create. While he was a blank slate for the player to insert themselves on, I decided to run with that concept, the "Blank Slate". Much of his memory is from being a soldier, all he knows is to kill and nothing more, it wasn't until he met Noble Team that he finally formed a kinship with them, even if it was a short time. Much of his personality is inspired by the Terminator, John Wick, and a slight inversion of Kirei Kotomine himself. Both men seeking to discover their true natures as people, both of which seeking satisfaction, though one hides his confused and twisted nature behind a mask of stoicism while the other creates a facade of fake emotions to mask the lack of his own.

**Kirei and his nature.**

\- While he wasn't pushed to discover himself by Gil, he was still compelled to find out about himself by fighting Kiritsugu. His emotions were creeping up, but before they could be fully uncovered, he had bit the dust. The push from Caster was lighter, more subtle, but he had gotten the desired results: either Kiritsugu or Kirei dead.

**Ryuunosuke and the Magic Circuits. **

\- Ryuunosuke actually does have magic circuits, as stated in the Fate/Zero Light Novel. They were dormant all throughout his life until Caster's summoning (Moriarty in this case) awoke them.

**Why Six feels underpowered.**

\- Not sure if anyone else felt this, however I did get this as a response. As many of you know due to the information provided by the last chapter, the circumstances of Six's summoning was a special case, that which being a 1 in a million chance to even be summoned in the Fourth Fuyuki Grail War. Six... isn't exactly from Earth, but his existence as a Counter Guardian binds him to the Earth at minimum. Even in the Noble Monument, Six is never displayed, so there's no fame boost, country of origin for him to have an advantage on, or notable Mystery aside from the ambiguity of his identity.

Nevertheless, even as underpowered as he was, he was still the winner.

* * *

_**Scrapped Ideas and Final Implementation**_

**Assassin. **

\- At the time, I wanted to use a Spartan that I was familiar with. Having read the books, I had wanted to settle on using Frederick as the Spartan for this story, thinking it would be a niche use of a Spartan-II. However, after some thinking, I had come up with the Counter Guardian scenario and didn't realize that Six had been a better contender for the role, as well as allowing for more flexibility and interpretation on how I wanted to write this story and where I could take it from here.

**Archer and Caster**

\- At around the time I wrote the prototype, I had just finished Agartha and Shinjuku, so Moriarty had been a planned Servant from the beginning, however he was implemented as an Archer with a slight deviation from the FGO version. Caster would've been Tokiomi's Servant, that Servant being none other than Gilgamesh. The story was much different, with Six following Gil's orders of tracking down Archer while Gil and Moriarty would engage in a sort of Cat and Mouse chase of trying to outwit each other.

After being stuck on Chapter 7, I scrapped the ideas entirely and started over, with better introspective into the Fate lore. That's when I picked up Fate/Strange Fake, with the introduction of Alcides, a twisted Alter form of Heracles' as an Archer. Moriarty had been moved into his canon Servant container, that being as a Caster and into a more mentor role for Ryuunosuke. While it is not shown in Part 1, the confrontation between Caster and Archer near the end of the Fourth Grail War has a deep impact for the Fifth to come.

**Combat**

\- The prototype proved to be a fundamentally different story, with Gilgamesh forcing Six to take a proactive approach in the war while simultaneously keeping the anonymity of their alliance in check. The first being the battle on the docks. Caster and Berserker fought between Gil's Gate of Babylon and Lancelot using KoO infused rocks to block the magic before Lancer used Gae Dearg to nullify other magic after his command seal. Afterwards, Gil left and tossed Assassin into the battle, forcing him to fight Berserker and Lancer in his stead. This lead to a stand off between the three, Lancer and Berserker fighting off Assassin before Rider stepped in, seeing the fight as unfair. However, Heracles taking the role of Archer in the finished product lead to a better confrontation with Rider, while Berserker still remained a threat.

**Saber and Assassin**

\- Because of Assassin's more proactive role in the prototype, Saber had seen his skill and acknowledged it. The 2v2 battle in the forest, between Saber and Lancer and Archer vs Berserker, was originally going to have Six facing Lancelot instead, both of which ending in a draw after Berserker takes a shotgun to the face (yes, the prototype just randomly had guns lying about. Part of the reason why I scrapped it). Assassin and Saber were temporarily allied for the sake of getting their prospective missions done, both of which had surprisingly good synergy in combat despite their contrasting styles of fighting.

**Rider's Fall**

\- Originally, I had planned for a battle between Iskandar and Gilgamesh much like Fate/Zero. However, it was a battle between each other's rivaling parties. With Ionioi Hetairoi against the overwhelming forces of Gilgamesh's Melammu Dingir. Both dealt mortal wounds to each other, killing each other off in the process.

**The Ending**

\- Howling Dark was going to end much differently than the finished product. The battle was going to be a one-sided battle between Saber and Archer, with Saber having the upper hand while Moriarty resorted to trickery to stay alive. Archer manages to get the upper hand by destroying Saber's arms with careful precision and temporarily preventing her from wielding Excalibur. Assassin barges in and tries to intervene, to which Archer tries to hold Saber at gunpoint, knowing the two had grown closer. Instead, Assassin takes the tougher path and ends up shooting Artoria to get to Archer, killing them both in the process, but not before Saber sees Assassin destroy the Grail using his Noble Phantasm.

**(Update 2/15/2020) The Cover Art**

\- If you hadn't guessed, the cover art of Howling Dark is Kirei's Command Seals over Assassin.

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**_Stat Sheet_**

_Assassin:_

**True Name:** Unknown

**Alias: **Noble 6. Counter Guardian SIX

**Alignment:** Lawful Neutral.

**Alternate Classes:** Avenger, Shielder.

**Parameters: **

**Strength: B **

**Endurance: B+ **

**Agility: A**

**Mana: D**

**Luck: E-**

**NP: C+**

**Class Skills:**

**Presence Concealment: A**

**\- Once serving as a former handler's personal assassin, Spartan-B312 has made entire Insurrectionist bases disappear overnight without a shred of evidence denoting his involvement. Rank drops significantly when preparing to attack. **

**Independent Action: B**

**\- Regularly given to the Archer Class, Assassin has earned this skill through the circumstances of becoming a Heroic Spirit. Able to stay manifested for two days. **

**Personal Skills:**

**Battle Continuation: A**

**\- Left behind on a desolate planet, Assassin had sacrificed his life to keep the remaining intruders at bay. So long as he lived, he had posed a danger for them. Fighting beyond even the limits of a Spartan's body, Six can survive even with a mortal wound for a limited time. **

**Augmentations: C**

**\- Every Spartan was granted the alterations necessary to wield the legendary MJOLNIR armor, and Six was no exception. Alongside functioning similarly to a low-ranking Instinct, Six is granted bonuses for any physical checks. **

**Eye of the Mind (True): B**

**\- One among 300 Spartans of Beta Company, a lifetime of combat had manifested a deep intuition of reading the situation of a fight. This skill allows Assassin to maintain a calm demeanor and clear mind throughout the fight, thinking several steps ahead of his opponent in order to come out alive. **

**Hyper Lethal: -**

**\- A Conceptual skill granted under the conditions of being able to maximize killing intent to an almost inhuman degree. As this was an ability that Assassin had manifested through pure efficiency alone, this does not fall under the categorization of a Noble Phantasm. **

**\- Similarly to Sir Lancelot's **_**Knight of Owner**_**, any weapon within Assassin's grasp is endowed with the power of a C-rank weapon. This power extends to Noble Phantasms as well. **

**\- However, there are drawbacks to this skill. Due to his existence with the Age of Man, any weapon surpassing C-rank is forcibly reduced to compensate. Along with this, unlike Berserker's Noble Phantasm, this skill restricts improvised weapons from attaining rank. **

**\- So far, only two Servants within the Throne of Heroes possess this Skill. **

**Man-Made Hero (True): A**

**[Unknown; Information Inaccessible.]**

_**Noble Phantasms:**_

**MJOLNIR: C+**

**A technological marvel by the standards of the future and an impossible dream within the modern Age of Man, MJOLNIR functions as a suit of futuristic armor to shield the wearer from incoming damage. Normally a D+ rank Noble Phantasm, it is because of the unlikelihood of this armor's creation today that raises its effectiveness and durability. **

**MJOLNIR raises all Physical parameters by a single rank and Plus bonuses to any Physical parameter already within A Rank, alongside a shielding system formed by energy particles capable of granting an equivalent of E-rank Magic Resistance. **

**Interestingly, due to Assassin's lack of a formal weapon in life, MJOLNIR possesses the ability to carry a limited supply of tools within a pocket dimension formed from Imaginary Space. **

**Fall of Reach: EX**

**Like the Laconians of old, the Spartans stood at the hot gates and held the line to delay the inevitable. In this instance, the actions of Noble Team, their sacrifice, had contributed to the survival of mankind and the savior housed within the Pillar of Autumn. Because of this, the last survivor of Reach was granted this conceptual Noble Phantasm for their heroism, even as a nameless Counter Guardian. **

**Each member of Noble Team is his Noble Phantasm, the concept of their sacrifice given form. Upon activation, Six is given an opportunity to "break" a law of the World and achieve the impossible, whether it is coming back from the dead or surviving the absolute corruption of the Holy Grail. The amount of times allowed for this to happen is equivalent to the number of Spartans that served in Noble Team. However, this Noble Phantasm can only be used sparingly as it comes with a great cost of mana and a lost ****opportunity for any future use, as it recreates the sacrifice of a member of Noble in Six's place to push him forward, so it must be used in a fight where he is fully expected to lose. **

**In the instance of the Fourth Holy Grail War, Six had used this power only twice: the first was surviving his first "battle" against Archer, and the other was breaking out of the dreamlike prison given by the Holy Grail.**

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**_Final Words_**

Overall, I am satisfied with what I made. I know it's not perfect, but I know what I want to write from here, where I want to take Six's journey, with Sakura, Shirou, Rin, Saber, and everyone else to be involved. As of today, the sequel is being written between me pausing from this chapter to continue before coming back to this. So I would like to thank you for your patience as it will take me quite some time to finish the sequel, The Next War.

Once again, thank you for your time.


End file.
